Wicked Fantasy
by Snapegirlkmf
Summary: When Rumple's off in Neverland, Belle's doing more than moping at Granny's. She's creating a wicked fantasy of her own. Rated M for sweet n' racy Rumbelle moments and some language in later chapters. Season 3 AU! Neverland/Dreamscape/Storybrooke settings. Also features Tiger Lily and Glinda.
1. Belle's Wicked Fantasy

**Wicked Fantasy**

The Booke of Dreams.

Belle found the book soon after Rumple had kissed her goodbye and gotten on board the Jolly Roger. After she had done as he had requested and activated the cloaking spell over Storybrooke, she had gone back to his shop and started looking through some things there, because doing so made her feel closer to her missing beloved. She located their chipped cup in the secret cabinet and found also inside of it an unremarkable leather journal, with some ornate writing on the flyleaf and the pages were the kind of heavy parchment used back in their old world.

It was called the Booke of Dreams.

Belle had taken it back to her apartment above the library, because she enjoyed the feel of its pages between her fingers and just touching this book, which she knew Rumple had put there, made her shiver all the way down to her toes. She suspected the book was far more than it looked, but was unable to figure out what it did until a tear of hers fell on a page one night as she flipped through the blank book, missing Rumple dreadfully. The tear spread out on the page . . . and was absorbed into the heavy parchment even as she watched.

Words appeared in graceful calligraphy upon the page.

_Think it. Write it. Dream it._

She repeated the words to herself, puzzled.

Lonely and her heart aching more than she ever thought possible for her missing beloved, who might never come home again, Belle picked up a pen and closed her eyes. She imagined herself with Rumplestiltskin again, being clasped in his strong arms, his fingers running through her silky hair, his breath hot upon her cheek, pressed up against his whipcord body, lean and lithe like a racehorse. . . .She smiled wickedly just thinking about it. _And he was hung like a racehorse too,_ she thought naughtily.

She imagined him standing before her, his eyes alight with passion and the love he only showed to her alone, because she was the only one he trusted with his heart. With her, he had naught to fear . . . and he allowed himself to indulge in his own playful love games to his heart's content.

_And yours,_ she reminded herself.

Heat curled through her as she imagined his hands all over her, touching her in her most intimate places, and she returned the favor, gliding her hands over his sexy sleek leather-clad thighs and bottom, before her fingers found the single button and undid it . . .

She opened her eyes then, almost gasping as her imagination ran full throttle with this most wicked fantasy.

_Think it. Write it. Dream it._

She set the pen to the parchment and began to write, pouring out all her illicit longings onto the thick creamy parchment.

**Page~*~*~*~*~*~Break**

_The Jolly Roger:_

Rumple detested the close quarters aboard ship, hating the way it made him feel like a mackerel packed in oil, squished uncomfortably into a bunk against a wall that seemed two sizes too small for him. They were circling the island now, and had been for a day, while Hook determined some safe spot to put in.

Rumple could have told the bloody pirate had he bothered to consult him that Neverland _had_ no safe place to land, and they should just take their chances. But Hook would never consult the man he'd tried to kill just days before, and Rumple didn't trust the bastard as far as he could throw him over the side.

The sorcerer wasn't sleeping well, despite the protection spells he had about his cabin to prevent that scummy bilge rat from murdering him as he slept.

He missed Belle, missed curling up next to her at night in his king sized bed with its satin sheets, listening to her breathe, wrapping himself about her, feeling her mouth on his, while he nibbled on her tender skin, working his way down her shoulders, and the soft sounds she made when he stroked her just so . . .

_Dammit! I have to stop this!_ he told himself futilely. His longing for his brilliant beauty was driving him insane, and not all of his lessons in meditation and concentrating on becoming a rock was working. Or rather, it was working on only one part of him, he thought ruefully. He knew that the others probably considered him well past the age when such things bothered him, since he was technically over 300 years old and the Dark One. But they were wrong. Dead wrong. Age was no barrier to lust, though what he felt for Belle wasn't just lust, but a fierce love coupled with a very healthy sex drive.

Gritting his teeth against the infernal swaying of the blasted boat, he turned on his side, one hand gripping the side of the bunk lest he be thrown ignominiously to the floor, and tried to imagine himself somewhere else, preferably in his big bed, with Belle on top of him, teasing him with her hair . . . he fell asleep with that image dancing provocatively in his head. . .

_The dreamscape:_

_Belle found herself walking across the room towards Rumple, her eyes glowing with love and desire. "Rumple!" she purred, rolling her R's in a sweet sexy burr._

_Rumplestiltskin sat upon their bed, dressed in his gold silk shirt and leather pants that clung to him like a second skin, his hair tumbled carelessly around his shoulders, his graceful long-fingered hands beckoning her with a crooked finger, a seductive naughty grin upon his lips, his eyes alight with wicked passion._

"_Hello, dearie. Come over here and sit on my lap."_

_His voice was like rough silk, it caressed and teased her, promising her the fulfillment of every wicked fantasy she could imagine. It glided over her, like rich clover honey, sweet and satisfying. She knew of no other man who could make love to her just by varying the timber of his voice._

_But Rumplestiltskin could._

_And did._

_As if pulled by an invisible string, Belle drew near him, and she shivered in ecstasy as he drew her down on his knee. She perched there like a contented cat while he carded his fingers through her thick silky hair, massaging her and then moving lower, circling her neck and shoulders, creating a slow burning heat that moved from the crown of her head through her body, like the embers of a banked fire stirred to life by his touch._

_She arched against his hand, her breath catching and releasing, aroused to a near fever pitch by his hands. "Rumplestiltskin!" she hissed, speaking his name as if it were her secret talisman against the dark, murmuring the syllables like they were a conjuring, summoning to her a fantasy lover that could satisfy her every desire._

_He grinned at her, that impish smirk she loved so well, his brown eyes reflecting his secret mirth, as he whispered, "Like that, do you, dearie? You know, love is a mystery to be uncovered . . . and I plan to uncover every inch of you tonight."_

"_Go ahead," she said, reveling in the way he touched her, so gentle and so passionate, undoing the buttons on her blouse and sliding it down her arms until it puddled upon the floor inbetween their feet._

_Then his fingers found the clasp on her bra and suddenly it too was gone, leaving her bare from the waist up. _

_His eyes roamed over her appreciatively. "Exquisite."_

_She shifted upon his lap, and he threw back his head and whimpered, and her mouth sought his, kissing her way down his neck, branding him with her desire. Her hands tangled in his hair as she pulled him forward, sharing the pleasure he aroused in her with him, kissing him as if there was no tomorrow. _

_She set her hands on his shirt, and the silk melted away beneath her fingers, revealing his lean rangy chest, his skin kissed with the slightest hint of gold. Her fingers traced his well-defined muscles, circling lower and lower, until they met the waistband of his dragonscale pants. They paused as he sucked in a breath, his eyes gleaming like darkest velvet as they met her cerulean ones._

_Without a word being exchanged, she stood up, and he unfastened her skirt, the fabric shushing against her legs as it pooled about her bare toes. She twitched her hips in a barely restrained shimmy before tugging at his pants, giving a soft half-growl as she did so._

_Giving her a wicked smirk, he rose as well, and as her hands caressed him, the leathers were whisked away, in wisps of purple smoke, and he curled a hand about her, pulling her against him._

_They landed on the bed, with her on top of him, her mouth teasing and caressing, making him gasp for breath as she reaffirmed her endless love for him with each kiss._

_His fingers danced over her back, promising unending ecstasy, making her burn with his own brand of magical fire, worshipping her with his hands and his body, celebrating his love for her in blissful silent velvet seduction._

_Slowly, like weaving threads in a tapestry, he coaxed her to the heights of ecstasy, joining with her until they became one, and she flew high above the earth, a being made of light and joy, entwined forever with he who was her opposite yet whole reflection, her beloved, her wicked fantasy. . ._

**Page~*~*~*~*~Break**

_The Jolly Roger:_

Rumple groaned softly, his arms wrapping about his pillow, hugging it to him, as he came awake, his brain still muddled from sleep . . . and the incredible dream he'd had of himself and Belle . . . naked and making love among satin sheets strewn with roses . . . and he yawned and closed his eyes, seeking solace in sleep from his aching heart and the knowledge that he might never see his beloved Belle again if things went as he assumed they would.

_I will see you again,_ she had whispered to him just before they parted upon the docks.

_Sure we will, dearie. But only in my dreams._

Then he was gone, returning to that twilight world, where dreams became flesh, and the deepest desires of your heart became reality, if only for a night, as the ship rocked to and fro upon Neverland's agate waves.

**Page~*~*~*~*~Break**

_Storybrooke_

_Belle's apartment:_

She woke with a gasp, the sheets tangled about her, her hair flying across her face, her hands clasping . . . nothing save thin air, as Rumple faded from her grasp like a spirit fled with the rising of the sun.

Her blue eyes crinkled as motes of sunlight danced across the bed, and she squinted against the light.

_That dream! It was like nothing I've ever experienced before . . . it was almost more vision than dream . . . and certainly the most erotic one I've ever had since he left to rescue Henry._

Just recalling it made her blush, heat surging into her cheeks, tingeing her fair skin a dusky rose.

Her hand came to rest upon the kidskin leather journal, and she remembered how she had written in it just before falling asleep, mourning the fact that Rumple was not beside her, wishing he were somehow here again . . . and then she had dreamed, a dream unlike any other, a dream that had seemed achingly real, where she and Rumple had been together again, enjoying each other in ways they hadn't done since before she'd lost her memories.

_Ah, Rumple. My sweet sexy badass babydoll . . . God, how I need you. You are my shining star amidst a dark curtain of loneliness . . . and I will never stop longing for you . . . until you return to me._

Sighing, she stretched, feeling as if she had spent all night making love . . . they way it used to be . . .before everything had come undone . . . and her eyes fell upon the Booke of Dreams. She bit her lip, tempted to pick it up again, write some more in it, and fall back to sleep, indulging herself in yet another wicked fantasy.

_Think it. Write it. Dream it._

Reluctantly she threw back the covers. She needed a cold shower. It was time to go to work, the library wouldn't run itself.

Her hand lingered upon the book for an instant, and she could almost feel the heat radiating from its pages. And was that a sparkle of violet light twinkling above the cover?

She shook her head at her own foolishness. It was just a journal. Wasn't it?

**A/N: I got inspired by the picture of Rumple I used as a cover for this story. . . .because really, who wouldn't be with those sexy leather pants? This was meant as a one-shot . . . but I might do more with it if anyone's interested. Thanks for reading!**


	2. Leather and Lace

**2**

**Leather and Lace**

**A/N: So I decided after some encouragement from all of you to continue this little ficlet! Enjoy!**

_Storybrooke_

_The next day:_

Belle kept busy reshelving the entire cooking section of the library . . . and getting some very good recipes that she wanted to try out when Rumple returned home. She thought _when_ and not _if_ because she refused to even entertain the thought that he might not come home again . . . that he might die saving Henry. No, she was so _not_ going there! Rumple _was_ coming home, she _would_ see him again. And in the meantime she would keep busy with her books and her recipes and her wicked fantasies of her beloved.

When she had finished that section, lovingly dusting all the books and mending a few torn spines and pages of some books that had been damaged, she decided to take a break for lunch.

She headed for Grannys, as usual, and ordered her typical cheeseburger, medium, with a toasted roll, crispy bacon, pickles lettuce, tomato and plenty of ketchup and mayo. As she bit into it, washing the savory meal down with sips of her iced tea, she thought of how Rumple and she had gone out on their first date here, and he had introduced her to the wonders of cheeseburgers and condiments—"this world's most powerful magic", he'd quipped to her.

Eating the familiar food brought her closer to her Rumple, and she half-closed her eyes as she ate and imagined him across from her, smiling that sexy half-smile she loved, eating his own hamburger and fries and drinking his own glass of iced tea or coffee. It was not hard for her to imagine that, since she had a _very_ fertile imagination, and always had, since she was a small child and prattled to her papa about seeing pixies and miniature unicorns in the garden.

She had almost finished her cheeseburger when Ruby came by with a refill on her iced tea, and said, "So what's new, girlfriend? Want to come out with me and Ashley tonight? We were going to see a movie and maybe go clubbing after for a bit."

Belle considered, stirring in some more sugar to her iced tea as she did so. Ruby's offer was tempting . . .

"Come on, Belle. You've been moldering in the library for days, ever since they left . . . it's not healthy . . ." Ruby persuaded.

Belle bit her lip. "I know, but . . . I just found the most incredible book . . . and . . . I have to go home and read some more of it . . ."

"It's that good, huh?" Ruby said skeptically. Reading had never been her thing, she'd always preferred doing.

"Oh, you've _no_ idea!" Belle giggled a little, imagining what Ruby's face would look like if she told her about the wicked journal she was keeping. "It's very . . . inspiring . . ." Her blue eyes turned dreamy.

"Okay, suit yourself. I'm sure while you're getting inspired by whatever you're reading, I'll be inspired by some hot guy or something," Ruby trilled. "Have fun!"

"You too!" Belle said, and drank the rest of her iced tea, finished her fries, and left her friend a generous tip underneath her glass. She could hardly wait till the day was done and she could get back to the Booke of Dreams.

_Oh, Rumple! I wish you were here, so I could share these . . .fantasies with you!_

**Page~*~*~*~*~*~Break**

Belle came home at five thirty and rushed upstairs. She kicked off her shoes, got into her most comfortable pair of pajamas, and grabbed the journal from her nightstand and opened it, pen in hand.

_Hmm . . . now what shall I write . . .? Let's see . . . how about this . . ._

She started writing, her thoughts flowing out onto the parchment with ease, scribbling faster and faster as her thoughts conjured an even wickeder scenario for her and Rumple than the one before it . . .

**Page~*~*~*~*~Break**

_Neverland:_

Rumple curled up in the hollow of an old banyan tree, watching as the stars came out and sparkled in the velvet curtain of night. Though he was here to find Henry and rescue him from the diabolical Pan, and he detested every minute he was forced to spend here on this lush tropical paradise, which bore hidden dangers the others could only dream of, he could not help but admire the beauty of the night and the stars in the heavens.

He had left the main group, unable to bear their bickering and feeling like they never wanted him along in the first place. The Charmings had each other and Emma, Regina seemed to be able to put aside her revenge long enough to find her son, and Rumple couldn't stand how that scummy Hook was eying Emma like a tall drink of water. It reminded him bitterly of how that _bastard_ had taken Milah away from him, and even though he knew his wife had been looking for an excuse to leave him, the way he had been humiliated at the hands of that buccaneer still stung. Emma belonged to Bae . . . or she had once, and he couldn't stand how that _pirate_ was looking at her. He feared he would lose his temper and hex the other man, thus breaking the fragile peace in the group, and so he had left, after giving Emma some pointed advice. He was better off on his own anyhow.

Now he was lying in the shade of a banyan tree, staring up at the stars and thinking wistfully, _Belle, are you staring up at the same stars as I am? Do you look at them and dream of what could be? What might be? How I wish you were here . . . and yet I'm grateful you're not, for then I would fear every moment that you might be in danger and I couldn't protect you. But oh, how I miss you, dearie!_

He conjured a tiny fire with his magic, just enough for some heat and light, just enough to keep the dark at bay . . . and the things that lived in it. Staring into the flames, watching them flicker and dance, he imagined holding Belle in his arms, and kissing her slowly, making her groan with every touch, as he slowly seduced her . . . then his eyes drifted shut . . . and once again he entered the world of dreams . . .

_The dreamscape:_

_Rumple was spinning, his hands feeding the straw into the wheel with the precision and grace of long practice, transmuting it to gold with barely a touch, using as his emotional image Belle lying on his bed, wearing nothing save her hair . . ._

_As if his thoughts had conjured her, Belle walked into his shop, wearing a clingy sexy teddy of ice blue silk with lace along the bodice and the hem, it hit her about mid thigh, leaving her beautiful sleek legs bare . . . except for the strappy glittering ice-blue high heels she wore, that accented her legs and made them look fabulous._

_In her hands she carried a silver tray with his chipped cup on it and a plate of chocolate cannolis. _

_"Belle!" He couldn't take his eyes off of her._

_"Hey, Rumple! I thought you could use . . . a snack . . . so here I am!" She carried the tray over to him and set it on the counter. _

_"You look . . . delectable, dearie," he said, his voice throbbing with need. His eyes moved from the tray with the chipped cup to her and traveled down to feast upon her gorgeous legs in those flaunting sexy heels. He'd always had an eye for a well-turned leg, and Belle's were incredible, superbly muscled and soft as silk, especially when she wrapped them around him just before making love._

_He reached out and patted her derriere, a love tap, which was a prelude to what was going to happen. Then he glided his hand down her leg, caressing and gently stroking until she shivered and moaned, "Rumple! If you don't stop . . . your tea will get cold . . ."_

_He laughed huskily. "I can always warm it up again. But . . ." he turned sideways and patted his knee, his eyes lighting with an invitation she couldn't mistake. _

_She gave him a sultry grin, her lips turning up provocatively as she sat on his lap. "Mmm . . . you're so hot, Rumple."_

_"Always for you, dearie," he growled softly, and reached for the chipped cup. In it was his favorite winter spice tea, with the rich taste of cinnamon, cloves, apples, and nutmeg. He brought it to his lips, and sipped the heady brew._

_Belle's eyes were riveted to her sorcerer, watching as he swallowed, finding something unbearably erotic about seeing the tea going down his throat. She reached for the chipped cup._

_Her hands closed about it, their fingers entwining for a moment, and she felt a familiar heat spiral through her at his touch. Shifting slightly, she took the cup, turned it, and set her mouth where his had been. _

_As her lips closed about the delicate porcelain, she could almost feel his lips upon hers, coaxing and teasing. The winter spice tea slid down her throat like one of his caresses, infinitely tender and creating a steamy heat deep inside her._

_Her eyes observed him as she sipped, noted how he smirked, and she lifted her head then and licked her lips, her tongue flicking in and out like a pink ribbon._

_His eyes fastened on her mouth and his smirk widened. Then he took the cup back and drank again, placing his lips exactly where hers had been. "A kiss of winter spice," he crooned._

_In this way, they drank from the chipped cup, playing with each other in leisurely fashion. _

_After the cup was empty, he set it carefully aside, and broke off a piece of the chocolate cannoli and fed it to her._

_She nipped his fingers, sucking on them to get every last bit of cream, and he made a low moan in the back of his throat. "So rich. So sweet. Mmm . . . Rumple!" Then she playfully nibbled his hand. "Now you."_

_"Okay, dearie." He handed her the plate, and she broke off a piece of cannoli and popped it into his waiting mouth, groaning in pleasure as he slowly used his tongue and lips to knead her fingers, licking and gently nipping until she was squirming upon his lap. _

_She could feel him through his tight leathers, which left nothing to her imagination._

_He gave her a signature wicked smile, and then pulled her fingers out of his mouth and turned her palm up, placing erotically featherlight kisses into the palm of her hand. _

_He kissed his way down her arm, driving her insane with his sexy butterfly kisses, making her burn with a sweet shocking heat._

_She sucked in a breath, then curved her other arm about his waist, fiddling with his buttons, her blue eyes twinkling naughtily. She deliberately curved her ankle about his booted foot, shimmying and swaying upon his lap like an exotic dancer._

_He gasped, his eyes going dark, as he responded to her little lap dance. "Where'd you learn this, Belle?"_

_"Wouldn't you like to know?" she purred, rubbing against him._

_"Read about it, did you?" he guessed, kissing her hungrily._

_He tasted of chocolate and cream, sinfully delightful._

_She allowed herself just a taste before she slipped off his lap and began to twirl back and forth, like the dancer she'd seen one night on a late night TV special, rotating her hips and showing off her legs in spirals and high kicks, making her teddy ride up her thighs . . ._

_Rumple swallowed hard, practically drooling as she kicked off one heel and put her foot in his lap. He immediately began to play with it, bringing his hand up higher and higher, until it disappeared beneath her lace teddy._

_"**Rumplestiltskin!"**_

_She cried his name as he expertly teased her with his hand, gripping his shoulder with an almost painful clasp._

_"How's that feel? Good, yes?"_

_"I . . . think . . . I'm . . . going to die . . ." she panted, her blue eyes changing from cerulean to indigo with passion. His fingers flexed and she whimpered in delight. "You've got magic hands, Rumple!"_

_He chuckled. "Well, I **am** a sorcerer."_

_"My sorcerer!" she hissed, wriggling half onto his lap. "But tonight . . . I'll do the conjuring!"_

_And she set her hands upon her ice-blue silky lace nightie and began to slowly work it up her body . . . until she tossed it away and was clad only in her bra and panties, and one high heeled shoe._

_Then she moved backwards, twitching her hips in an irresistible movement, throwing her head back and exposing her slender throat, her silky hair flowing over her shoulders and across her face like a shadowy curtain of dark fire._

_She reached a hand up, brushed her hair out of her eyes, until she peered from it like a harem girl over the top of her veil. She fluttered her lashes at her beloved in an unmistakable "come hither" gesture, as some music began to play in the background._

_"Belle!"_

_"Yes, Rumple?"_

_"How do you call your loverboy?"_

_"C'mere, loverboy!" she crooned, and beckoned him with a crooked finger._

_He slid half off the wheel, his knee touching the floor, one hand splayed before him. "And if he doesn't answer?"_

_"Oh, loverboy!" she called, making her voice deep and low, like a siren's._

_He dipped his head, grinning. "And if he still doesn't answer?"_

_She moved forward, gyrating slightly, tossing her head like a wild mustang. "I simply say . . . baby . . . oh, baby . . . my sweet Rumple . . . you're the one . . ." and as she sang she grabbed his scarf and twirled it about herself, stamping her heel on the floor before twirling away provocatively and fluttering her lashes at him again._

_"Shall we dance, dearie?" _

_He rose then, and began to slowly unbutton his gold silk shirt and leather vest, undulating his hips and pelvis as he did so, like a snake uncoiling from a hot rock, his eyes glittering with desire._

_Her eyes widened as he shrugged leisurely, the movement causing his shirt to slowly slip off his shoulders, his vest dangling from one finger as he gave her his most promising seductive grin._

_He flicked his hand . . . and the vest flew across the shop._

_He took two steps forward, extending his arms and then bringing them up to his shoulders, then down in a slow movement, pulling off his shirt in slow increments, like a snake shedding his skin. _

_He tossed it away, in the direction of the vest. _

_Mesmerized, she watched as he came towards her, his leather pants like a second skin as he danced over to her, pulling them tight as he moved his hips and pelvis in slow circles. _

_He picked up her leg, the one with the shoe still on it, and tugged her close, wrapping her foot about his waist while moving his leather-clad lower body against her in a rhythm as old as time itself._

_She nearly self-combusted right there._

_His hands cupped her bottom, pressing her to him, murmuring, "Your sweet loving is better than any kiss, sweetheart."_

_"Rumple!" _

_He laughed, dark and sexy, and then did a long slow shimmy . . ._

_ . . . and the leathers slid down him in a soft shushing of black scales . . ._

_ . . . like a dragon sloughing off his old skin . . ._

_"How . . . are you doing that?" she asked, her eyes wide._

_"Magic, of course," he smirked, wriggling his fingers._

_Then his boots vanished in purple smoke . . ._

_ . . . until he too was skyclad . . ._

_His fingers undid the straps of her shoe, and he teased her unmercifully by taking his own sweet time slipping the shoe off her foot, rubbing the straps along her calf and ankle and kissing his way down her leg as he did so, using his mouth and tongue in an erotic combination that nearly made her scream._

_She was pressed up against the counter now, and he was playing with her foot, massaging her arch in featherlight strokes, making her writhe with pleasure. "Rumple . . . I want . . . I need you . . . _**now**!"

_"Just . . . a little longer . . . sweetheart . . ." he whispered, his fingers walking back up her leg, rubbing her knee in slow deft circles, and then slipping back down to circle her ankle. _

_"Rumple . . . !" she yelped, unable to articulate how he was making her feel, though she was sure he could tell, for he knew her so well. God, how did the man make love to her just by touching her **leg**?_

_"How do you call your loverboy?" he queried, his voice as soft and sleek as the leathers he'd discarded._

_"Rumplestiltskin . . . my badass babydoll!" she called as his fingers left her leg and splayed across her back, hugging her to him. She wrapped her legs about him, her lips meeting his in a fierce kiss._

_Then she was transported out of the shop upon the wings of magic, emerging out of a purple haze in their bedroom._

_The bed was soft, inviting, and they fell upon it, indulging some more in some shameless teasing before finally consummating their love, sharing that most intimate part of themselves until they became one—mind, body, and soul—in one great burst of passion that reverberated throughout the dreamscape . . ._

**Page~*~*~*~*~Break**

_Neverland:_

Rumple stirred and woke, certain parts of him aching for his beloved Belle's touch, and he flushed faintly as he gazed into the now dying embers of the fire and recalled the glorious dream he'd had of himself and Belle in his shop.

"Damn, but I want to go back to sleep!" he groaned. But he knew he couldn't afford to indulge himself any longer. He must find Pan, find Henry, before that irritating little shit corrupted his grandson like he had so many others. Rumple would not let that happen, no matter if the boy did prove his undoing.

Heaving a sigh that came from the tips of his boots, he rose and stretched, kicking out the fire and dousing the embers with his magic.

He glanced longingly at the spot where he had slept beneath the banyan tree and murmured, "Until tonight, Belle, dearie!"

Then he pushed his way into the jungle, regretfully pushing his delightful dream to the back of his mind . . . for now.

**Page~*~*~*~Break**

_Storybrooke:_

Belle woke up still feeling Rumple's hands on her, his kisses lingering on her lips and her throat, quivering like a lyre plucked by an expert invisible hand. Her alarm clock was buzzing annoyingly in her ear, reminding her that today was another day . . . without her Rumple.

She almost slammed the snooze button and went back to sleep, but then she recalled that today was Children's Storytime at the library and she had to be there. She couldn't disappoint the children.

She rolled over, and her hand fell upon the leather journal.

The Booke of Dreams.

_That dream! It was so real! And I can recall every moment of it . . . like I can no other . . ._

She sat up and pulled the journal into her lap, flipping the pages open to where she had written in them last night.

But the book was blank, the parchment a creamy ivory, as if she'd never written in it at all.

"How? Why?" she gasped aloud.

She ran her fingers across the page to make sure, and she saw the parchment sparkle violet for just an instant.

"Magic," she murmured. "Magic to bring Rumple to me and me to Rumple."

She hugged the book to her for a long moment, then tucked it into her nightstand, wishing it were dark already, so she could write more of her wicked fantasies . . . and dream that they came true all night long.

She rose and went to turn on the shower, thinking that maybe she'd go shopping with Ruby . . . and buy herself some new lingerie. . . of ice-blue silk and lace, with strappy glittering heels to match. . . to celebrate his homecoming.

"Rumple . . . my sweet Rumple . . ." she sang softly, smiling to herself naughtily as she stepped into the shower and let the hot water flow over her. "You're the one!"


	3. Woodland Revel

**3**

**Woodland Revel**

_Storybrooke:_

That day at Children's Storytime at the library, which Belle had for ages five and six year olds on Tuesday afternoons, and younger children on Wednesday afternoons, Belle chose to read Peter Pan, but a slightly toned down version of J.M. Barrie's classic, yet not exactly the same as the Disney version either. These children, about ten in number, all gathered after their morning portion of kindergarten, brought there by their teacher, Jill, and sat enthralled while Belle read to them.

It was rather ironic, the librarian thought, that here she was reading to the children about Neverland, Peter Pan, Hook, Wendy, her brothers John and Michael, Tink, and Tiger Lily while Rumple was off in the actual dimension trying to rescue a kidnapped Henry. As she read, she wondered how much of this story was actually true. She would have to ask Rumple when he returned.

She read three chapters before story hour was over, and promised the children next time to read some more of it, as they were all eager to see what happened next. She placed a bookmark in the book and put it up near the circulation desk in her cubby where she stored books she wanted to read. Then, after locking up, she went back to Granny's to eat lunch.

Today she didn't feel like a hamburger, she was missing Rumple more than usual after reading the story and recalling her rather naughty dream last night . . . a dream she was sure was spawned by the magic contained in the journal called the Booke of Dreams.

She decided to test out her theory tonight by writing a few specific things down in both the actual book and another smaller notebook, and seeing if she recalled them upon waking. And if she were right about the journal, perhaps she could use it to communicate with Rumple. She not only ached for his touch, but to hear his voice, with that sweet sultry accent, and to see his beloved face again.

When Ruby came by to take her order, she had an iced tea and a grilled cheese with tomato and bacon with fries.

Ruby looked surprised. "No hamburger today?"

Belle shook her head. "No. I'm . . . just not feeling like eating that today."

Ruby eyed her friend. "You look kind of down. Is everything okay?"

"Umm . . . yes. As much as things can be without Rumple here," she murmured, swallowing hard.

Ruby gave her a sympathetic glance. "It'll be okay, Belle. They'll find Henry and kick Tamara and Greg's butts and come home soon. You've got to believe that."

"I know. It's just . . . sometimes it's hard," Belle sighed. "Sometimes I just . . . miss him being beside me so much . . . it's like I've cut off my arm or something, you know?"

"Believe it or not, I do. I used to feel like that . . . about my boyfriend Peter back in our old world. Before . . . well, you know . . ." Ruby said softly. "Sometimes we could only see each other occasionally, and when I couldn't be with him, that's how I felt." She gave Belle's shoulder a squeeze. "How about we go rent a movie or something later on tonight? We could just hang out at my apartment and make popcorn and just have fun."

Belle thought about it. Though she was eager to test out her new theory, she knew she was also lonely for some companionship, and Ruby was her good friend. "Okay. That sounds like fun. When do you get off of work?"

"Seven," Ruby said. "What kind of movie shall we rent?"

"Uh . . . how about something . . . funny and romantic?" Belle suggested. "I could use a good laugh."

"Hmm. Okay," Ruby said. "We can see what's on On Demand."

"I'll meet you here at seven then," Belle said. She decided to close up the library early, and maybe be able to write down her dream sequence and test it before she went over Ruby's.

**Page~*~*~*~*~Break**

Belle wrote her wishful fantasy out first in a small notebook she had found in the library one day in the circulation desk. Then she transcribed it into the Booke of Dreams. By then it was four thirty, and she would have plenty of time to fall asleep and dream for two and a half hours before getting up to meet Ruby at the diner.

She dressed in a pair of casual silky slacks and a soft tunic like shirt of deep indigo by someone called Donna Karin. Then she made herself a cup of chamomile tea and soon after that fell asleep on her bed, slipping effortlessly into her chosen fantasy . . .

**Page~*~*~*~*~Break**

_Neverland:_

Rumple continued walking through the thick jungle, cursing the fact that Pan seemed to know every move he made and slip away before he could confront him. The devious being, Rumple refused to think of him as a mere boy, was toying with him, and it irritated him beyond belief. Then again, he was familiar with Pan's games, for they had known one another before, back when Rumple was a boy, and had been living with Elizabeth and her spinner sister, after his father had been killed by some men over a gambling scam he'd been running. His father had been trying to slip out of town to avoid paying the men the money he owed them, leaving Rumple with the Spinners, as they were known, and had not even bothered to say goodbye to his son, when the men caught him.

The last thing Rumple had of his cowardly wastrel father was a small cornhusk doll wearing a blue cloth shirt . . . but he had given the doll away to a boy named Peter Pan a year after his father's death. He had been seven, and lonely and vulnerable, and Pan had taken advantage of him terribly, though he hadn't realized it then.

Shaking his head, Rumple continued on through the thick jungle, noting that wherever Pan had gone, he had left devastation in his wake. The camp he'd just abandoned was full of hacked apart trees and an empty firepit, a midden heap, and a latrine pit also. The remains of a carcass of some luckless animal, probably a type of antelope or a deer, hung on a spit, and there was even the framework of an abandoned hut.

Rumple examined the empty camp thoroughly, finding nothing to lead him to his grandson, and gritted his teeth. He walked out of the camp and tried to follow the sets of boys' tracks, which led deeper into the jungle.

He went down a trail and found himself in an oddly pleasant glade and decided to rest for a time. He went and sat down in the shade of a large moss-covered tree with large tropical flowers of a red and orange shade.

The sun was warm upon his back and he carefully set up a ward before drifting off into a doze, as he felt suddenly sleepy.

He leaned his head back against the tree trunk and was soon wandering the realm of dreams, where he found himself in a vastly different woodland glade, where someone he loved very much waited for him . . .

_The dreamscape:_

Towering oaks, gray and gold-leaved aspens, colorful maples, and stately beech trees surrounded the lush green carpeted glade that Rumple found himself in. This was the sort of woodland retreat that could be found within the Enchanted Forest if one looked hard enough, the sort of remote area that he used to go to in order to find potion ingredients, and once or twice to observe magical animals along with Bae.

The thick emerald grass contained a plethora of wildflowers and wild growing herbs of all kinds. He noted at least four different varieties of them as he walked towards Belle, his botanist's eye trained long ago by Elizabeth to spot them, for she had been an herbalist as well as a spinner, and had taught her craft to Rumple as he grew.

"Rumple!" Belle called eagerly. "You came!"

His eye was now drawn to her, and his breath caught in his throat.

His beloved was dressed in a soft leaf green dress . . . actually it appeared the dress was made of leaves, like those the nymphs of the wood wore in the stories he'd heard as a child. Nymphs were elusive folk, and rarely did they show themselves to humans, especially men, unless they wanted a mate. Rumple had never encountered one before, but Belle was quickly fulfilling all his ideas of what one might look like, with her long chestnut hair flowing loosely down her back and twined with lovely wildflowers. On her feet were golden sandals, that wound up her shapely calves.

In addition to the leaf dress, which was bound loosely with a woven gold cord, Belle had golden anklets of tiny bells on that tinkled merrily as she ran towards him, her face alight with joy.

Rumple caught her in his arms, hugging her to him, feeling an indescribable pleasure at holding her again. He was dressed not in his usual Dark One ensemble, but a much more relaxed style of clothing, a soft cream shirt and a long tunic of crimson with gold embroidery along the edges and the cuffs, like spinning wheels, and he was wearing dove gray pants, but he still had on his dragonscale lace-up boots.

"Hello, dearie," he greeted her, his lips inches from her delicate ear. "Miss me?"

"Always!" she answered, tilting her head up and kissing him hard on the mouth.

She tasted of summer and sunlight, and sweet berries and red clover honey, he thought as he moved his hands down her back, aroused by her welcoming kiss as he was by nothing else. He kissed her back, making her whimper as he teased her with his mouth.

When he finally drew back, he saw that her lips were rosy and her face flushed, and in her eyes was the look of a woman who has just been passionately kissed by her ardent lover. His finger traced her cheek and he said, "I've missed you too . . . more than I can say. This is a lovely spot, dearie."

"Isn't it?" she said, drawing him into the middle of the glade, where a white cloth was spread upon the grass and in the center was a woven basket. "I thought it was a nice spot for a picnic."

He smiled as the bells upon her anklets chimed musically as she walked beside him. "A picnic with my favorite woodland nymph."

He allowed her to sit upon the white cloth, which was rather like a tablecloth, and remove several items from the basket.

Inside it were some small china plates, silverware, a plate of sandwiches, another of fruit, like strawberries and raspberries with cream, a three bean salad, and two small bottles of honey wine.

Rumple relaxed upon the cloth, half-reclining, with one knee up and the other leg extended. He beckoned, and a plate filled itself with a sandwich of bacon, lettuce, turkey, and tomato, some salad, and the cork in the bottles of wine vanished in purple smoke.

He lifted the bottle and clinked it with Belle's saying, "Here's to us, Belle. We've finally got that moment alone that we kept getting interrupted on back in Storybrooke." Then he drank, feeling the wine slide down his throat in a thousand rapturous swallows, sweet and bubbly.

Belle couldn't take her eyes off him, finding his semi-relaxed pose irresistibly sexy. Her eyes traveled up from the tips of his boots, which reached past his knees, and to where his tunic met his thighs, his lean well-muscled legs causing her throat to go dry in longing. She took a drink of her wine, then ate a bite of her sandwich, which was unbelievably tasty, spread with some kind of herbal mayonnaise that was slightly spicy and sweet and gave the turkey, bacon, lettuce, and tomatoes a bit of a kick.

"Mmm! This sandwich . . . tastes like magic," she purred, twitching her ankle.

He eyed her foot, his brown eyes heating, and said, "Yes. Whatever this condiment is makes a perfect compliment to the turkey and bacon." He bit into his sandwich, chewing slowly, savoring every mouthful.

Belle found herself mesmerized by the way his lips moved up and down, and her half of a sandwich lay forgotten in her hand. She imagined his lips upon her, kissing her all over, and a slow heat began to spiral upwards from her midsection.

He licked some mayo off his lips, and she sighed and drank some more wine.

Grinning wolfishly, he finished half his sandwich and then said, "Come over here, dearie, and put your head in my lap."

His soft-voiced command barely left his mouth before she was lying with her head in his lap.

He stroked her hair, tangling lovingly in her auburn tresses, massaging with long slow flickers of his fingers, making her quiver all over.

"I love your hair, Belle. It's like chestnut fire," he whispered, his voice velvety soft, with that faint burr she loved so well. He continued caressing her hair, each slow stroke of his hands making her sigh happily.

"Rumple . . . that feels so good!" she groaned.

Soon his caresses moved from her head to her shoulders, his hands gliding across her skin, loving how she felt like hot silk beneath his fingers. He saw her eyes darken with pleasure and love, and then he reached for the bowl of fruit and fed her some berries with cream.

She swallowed the luscious treat, then licked her way up the spoon and nibbled his fingers.

"Hungry?" he queried.

"For you?" she smirked. "Insatiable."

He fed her another spoonful, and she licked his hand, running her tongue teasingly over his palm and inbetween his fingers.

"How do I taste, dearie?"

"Sweetly satisfying," she crooned, and nibbled his way down to his wrist.

He gasped as her love bites made him ache with longing.

He continued feeding her bites of fruit, and she nibbled sensuously on his hand after each mouthful, until he bent and kissed her, tasting the sweetness of berries and honey upon his tongue, that hit him in an intoxicating rush.

He kissed her again, adoring the fact that she wished always to be with him, flawed imperfect thing that he was, drowning in the sensations she brought out in him.

Belle twined her arms about Rumple's neck, pulling his head down, while simultaneously hitching herself forward upon his knee, devouring him as much as he did her.

She could smell the spicy scent of the soap he used, as well as the sweet scent of honey and strawberries, and taste it too, upon his lips and tongue.

His kisses were like magic, setting her on fire. But she didn't want their lovemaking to end so quickly, so once he had drawn back a bit, his eyes shimmering with love and sheer delightful desire, she rolled to her feet and cried, "Catch me if you can, Rumple!"

Then she raced across the grass, the bells on her ankles tinkling madly.

"Hey!"

He looked after her, his expression one of a man who has suddenly let the best deal of his life get away.

She paused, glanced back, challenging him to come after her.

He bounded to his feet, and shook a finger playfully at her. "You naughty little tease! Just wait till I catch you!"

She tossed her head and giggled wickedly. "First you have to catch me . . ." and then she was off and running.

Rumple darted after her, able to run easily since here he had no limp, yet his impish lover was as light on her feet as thistledown upon the wind, and he couldn't seem to catch her at first.

Always she stayed just ahead of him, her small feet flashing over the ground in her golden sandals, her anklets ringing out merrily.

He ran swiftly after her, but even while he did so, determined to catch her and make her pay for her audacity, he was admiring the way she moved, her legs flashing in tantalizing glimpses as she bolted like a gazelle, his eyes drawn irresistibly to her ankles as the bells chimed.

She had lovely ankles, and the sandals she wore accented her tiny feet and graceful arch, and when she ran, the leaf dress rode up her thighs and derriere and Rumple panted softly as he sprinted after her, imagining his hands where the dress was, until she half-swooned from his tender tantalizing touches.

The glade didn't seem all that large when he'd first entered it, yet for some reason it took longer than it should for him to catch up to Belle, who kept glancing back over her shoulder, smirking triumphantly and batting her eyes with their gorgeous silky lashes at him.

Suddenly she slid to a stop, and he reached out a hand to snatch her up, saying with a low raspy growl, "So, you lovely nymph, you thought you could escape me? No one breaks deals with me, dearie!"

Belle put out a hand and hissed, "Shush, Rumple! Look!"

Rumple's fingers grazed her waist before he drew back, his eyes widening at the sight of the pure white foal with the tiny wings lying in the center of the glade. "A pegasus!"

"Isn't she darling!" Belle crooned, her eyes going all misty. She started forward, her hand held out, crooning, "Oh, baby! Look at you!"

"Belle!" he called. "Belle, sweetheart, we can't keep her . . ."

She ignored him, kneeling down beside the little creature and gently stroking the foal's delicate nose. The foal nuzzled her chest and nibbled her fingers, clearly searching for something to eat. Its coat was a pure dazzling white, almost iridescent, like a summer star fallen from the heavens, with little wisps of an ivory mane and its eyes were a brilliant violet, like amethysts. The foal whinnied and shifted one small hoof, which was a silvery color, impatiently.

"I know, sweetie," Belle crooned, petting the little head. "Rumple, she's hungry!"

Rumplestiltskin rolled his eyes and looked heavenward. "So? What do I look like, her mother?"

"You've got magic . . . magic her up something to eat," Belle answered, giggling as the little foal lipped her hair.

"Magic her up something to eat!" he muttered, annoyed. "Sure, sweetheart. Here comes the Equine Express Delivery Service! Now I'm a cow!" He gestured and a bottle full of mare's milk mixed with honey appeared in his hand.

The foal saw, or smelled the milk, because she was on her feet in a flash, whinnying as Rumple approached, her little whisk broom tail going a mile a minute. Her violet eyes sparkling, the foal reared up and planted her small hooves right in his stomach, her mouth open and questing for the bottle.

"Whoa!" he yelped. "Hey, baby, if you think you can walk all over me . . ." he grunted as her hind hoof stepped on his toe and she shoved him hard with her nose, bleating impatiently. "Oof! Half a minute, you little . . ."

Belle giggled. "Aww, Rumple! She likes you!"

"Uh huh . . . and I like her too . . . in a painting far away from here . . ." he said, and managed to shove the nipple into the foal's mouth.

The pegasus latched on and began to drink, its downy wings fluttering as it sucked the bottle.

As she drank, Rumple gently lifted her and removed her front hooves from his vulnerable midsection, sitting down on the grass and placing the foal in his lap, making sure her hooves were away from all the tender parts of his anatomy. "I feel like an extra in My Little Pony," he muttered, as the foal continued to suckle.

Belle eyed him approvingly. "You look so . . . cute doing that, Rumple!" She reached over and brushed some of his hair out of his eyes, and kissed his cheek.

"Really, dearie?" he arched an eyebrow at her suggestively.

She leaned over, one hand coming up to run her finger about his ear, when the foal suddenly drew back and sneezed.

Droplets of milk spattered all over Rumple.

"Great! Thanks a lot, Flutterby!"

The foal shook her head and began guzzling the rest of the bottle down, while Rumple eyed the equine, his face and shirt splattered with milk.

"Rumple! Don't pout," Belle laughed. "You look—"

"Like a horse just used me as a hankie?" he sighed resignedly.

"—good enough to eat. As soon as she's done drinking, that is." And she gave him a long slow perusal that left him longing for her with every moment that passed.

Finally the bottle was empty, and the pegasus burped and then put her head down on Rumple's knee.

Belle stroked the little foal until the amethyst eyes shut and she was snoring gently. "Aww, she's asleep!"

"Thank goodness!" Rumple said, and then he gently eased the slumbering foal off of him, laying her in the grass. "Okay, Buttercup, now you go gallop off to dreamland with all the good little ponies, so Papa and Mama can enjoy themselves."

When he turned back around, Belle was kneeling next to him, and slowly licking the droplets of milk off his nose. "See? Now I have an excuse . . . to do this . . ." She slowly worked her way down his face, and he shut his eyes and gave a kind of whimper, for her tongue sent shockwaves through him.

"Belle . . . ahh . . .Belle . . ."

"Shh . . . just relax . . ." she purred, and the next thing he knew he was flat on his back, and she was straddling him, her kisses sending scalding heat all through him as she licked milk off his face and neck.

"Dearie . . . mmm . . ."

He lifted his head, trying to kiss her back, but she pushed him down, murmuring, "No . . . just lie still . . ."

"Lie _still_? Not with your mouth doing _that_ to me!"

"Practice your self-control, sorcerer!" she chuckled wickedly, her hair tickling him.

"I _have_ no self-control where you're concerned . . ." he protested, but he let her continue with her seduction, becoming biddable beneath her hands and mouth, as she brought him to cusp of ecstasy . . . and then halted.

"Hey. . . why are you stopping?"

She had his shirt half-undone, and was playing with it and him, running her hands over him. "I'm not really, Rumple. Just . . . prolonging the . . . enjoyment . . ."

Her hands glided lower and he purred like a cat.

They slowly started to untie the drawstring on his gray pants, when his hand covered hers, and he reminded softly, "You go there, dearie, and there's the end to your little game, because you know what happens next."

She winked at him saucily. "Then I guess . . . we'll wait a little bit more . . ."

Her hands moved away, down his legs instead, finding his boots. She rolled off him then, sitting to the side and taking his foot in her lap and slowly undoing the laces on his boots, her fingers tracing slow seductive spirals down his leg as she did so.

He sucked in a breath. "You know . . . you keep doing that . . . and those pants are coming off . . ."

"Not yet," she smirked sassily. "Find something else to do."

"Like what? You're incredibly distracting, dearie," he pointed out.

"You're a smart man. Figure it out," she said, tugging his lace open and then peeling his boot off his calf.

"You're driving me insane . . ." he hissed, fighting to maintain the last shreds of his self-control and not lunge at her and smother her with kisses and then take her right there. His eye was caught by the profusion of colorful wild flowers surrounding them. "Okay . . . let's get creative here . . ." he murmured, and gestured.

Suddenly his lap was filled with wild flowers of all kinds and colors, trailing long flexible stems. He began to plait them together, weaving skillfully as if they were cotton threads on a loom.

Belle halted her playing for an instant. "Rumple . . . what are you doing?"

"Weaving, dearie."

"Weaving what?"

"You'll see. Go back to what you were doing." His fingers continued twisting and twining expertly.

Belle continued unlacing, her hands circling his mended leg, recalling the days before when she had massaged it, and now it was whole, reminding her that his magic was not all of a piece, that he could use it to heal as well as harm.

Rumple tried to concentrate on his weaving, but the sensations his wicked little nymph was making him feel as she took off his boots were causing him to forget what he was doing.

When he felt Belle tug off one boot and then start on the next one, he quickened his pace, and flower petals flew everywhere in a psychedelic rainbow blizzard as he twisted and entwined the greenery.

He finished just as Belle tugged the last lace free on his right boot and was tickling his foot with her hair.

"Belle . . . you minx . . . quit that . . .!" he tried to sound forceful, but all he ended up sounding like was someone begging for this sweet torture to end, and laughing helplessly.

"You wanted me, darling . . . and now you've got me . . . but all magic comes with a price . . ." she purred, running her finger down his foot and making him howl uncontrollably. "And so the beauty tames the beast."

"Tame? Dearie, I am _never_ tame," he mock-growled. "And oh, will I make you pay for this, sweetheart . . ." he warned, his eyes glowing amber. Then he pulled his foot free and tossed the woven cloak of wildflowers about her. "A gift for the queen of the woodland."

"Oh! It's beautiful!" she cried, and swirled it around her.

"And it makes a perfect blanket . . . for my woodland bower . . ." he said, his eyes taking on a hungry look.

She squealed and made as if to run from him . . . but he was too quick and grabbed her, flower cloak and all, and pulled her to him, transporting them out of the meadow and to a lovely bower of curling vines, climbing roses and ivy and the softest mattress among them, with gauzy filmy curtains that he pulled closed after they settled on the bed.

He whipped off the cloak, laying it down beneath her, and then he said, "Now, my beloved nymph, I believe you owe me . . ." and then he covered her mouth with his, branding her with his kiss.

She melted into his embrace, allowing him to do what he wished with her, secure in the knowledge that he would never harm her, the beast was a phantom, all posture and bluff, and his greatest pleasure was in giving her some . . . and so they danced, each knowing the steps, moving in time to the rhythm of their hearts, finding nirvana in each other's embrace . .. while the scent of crushed wildflowers rose about them . . .

**Page~*~*~*~*~Break**

_Neverland:_

Rumple was rudely yanked from his amazing dream of Belle making sweet love with him in a woodland bower by a feather tickling his nose.

"What in _hell_?" he growled, jerking away, his nose twitching.

To see a slender young woman, with honey-cored skin and hair the color of tannin bark water standing in front of him. Her eyes were the deep amber of an oak-leaf in autumn, and she was dressed in softly tanned deerskin leathers . . . with blue woad tattoos on her arms and legs, spirals, circles, and leaves . . . and a single blue feather was tattooed on her left cheek.

He could almost mistake her for a child, except no child was curved like she was . . . and he knew no human girls were allowed to stay in Neverland. Then too, the look of mischievous delight in her eyes was all too adult.

"You . . . how did you get past my wards?" he asked, still muddled from sleep and irritable about being woken up just as he was about to . . . damn it all!

"Because . . . I mean you no harm, Rumplestiltskin," she replied, her voice like the chiming of bells on the breeze.

"Who . . . _what_ are you?"

"Have you forgotten all the legends then?" she pouted. "Do men no longer tell tales of the tree spirits?"

He swallowed hard. "You're . . . a dryad?"

"I am," she said, and pirouetted about on one foot, as graceful as a leaf falling.

"In Neverland?"

"This is our home, and always has been, for centuries this belonged to us . .. until _he_ came," her face hardened. "He brought those wretched boys with him . . . to defile and destroy the woods and jungle, to claim _mastery_ over the wilderness, and ruin the peace we had between nature and spirit. We lived in harmony . . . until he destroyed it all with his games and sacrifices."

"Peter Pan."

"Yes!" she stamped a bare foot on the ground. He noticed her ankle was twined with ivy. "He has polluted what was once paradise with his foul presence. He does not belong here . . . and yet we cannot fight him . . . he's too strong for us to defeat . . . his Lost Boys bear weapons of steel . . . and such is anathema to us."

Rumple nodded. "Yes, I've heard of that. I'm here to rescue my grandson, Pan kidnapped him. I think . . . I think he plans to kill him and take his heart . . . the heart of the truest believer . . ."

Her mouth twisted in disgust. "Sacrificial magic! Disgusting!" She poked an index finger at him. "But you . . . can you counter it?"

"Yes. I can. Or I shall die trying."

"Oh, no. You mustn't die. You are the one who can help us defeat him . . . drive him and his band of destructive children out of here."

"You would ally yourself with me?" he asked, astonished. "But dryads haven't done that in . . ."

"Since we left the realms of men, I know. But desperate times call for desperate measures, Rumplestiltskin," she said, speaking his name with a faint lilting accent. "Our goals are the same, you wish him defeated to save your grandson, and we do too, to save our home and ourselves. Magic to fight magic . . . it's the only way to defeat him."

"True, dearie. But . . . all magic comes with a price."

She tossed her head. "Such is the way of things. To get one must give. I shall help you, Rumplestiltskin, for I know this island like none other . . . even Pan does not know what I do, for he claims dominion, but I . . . I am one with the spirit of Neverland and I know secrets he never shall. I shall help you find your grandson and rescue him."

"And in return?"

"In return I ask you to cast a spell to protect me and my sisters from anyone ever finding this island . . . once he and his are driven from it. Neverland was always meant to be a place of dreams . . . but he had corrupted it. We would have it back . . . and cleanse it of him and his dark magic. Do we have a deal?"

"We do, dearie," he said, and took her hand in his. "What's your name?"

"You cannot pronounce my true one," she answered, chuckling. "Human throats cannot reproduce the sound of leaves through trees and such. But . . . long ago there was a boy . . . he was not like the others . . .he did not come willingly, but was taken by Pan . . ."

"Like Henry."

"Yes. But his name was Baelfire."

Rumple felt his throat catch. "Bae! My son!"

"Ah! But he escaped . . . because I helped him. Is he well?"

"He . . . is dead." He made himself say it, though it hurt terribly to utter the words.

"Dead?" she gasped. "But . . . that cannot be!"

"Why? Don't you think I'd know if my own son is dead?" he asked harshly.

She tugged something from about her neck, it was an acorn, that glittered with copper, on a cord. But it was missing its lower half. "Look! This is an acorn from my tree. I broke it in half, gave him one and I kept this. So I could remember how we were friends . . . and if he were dead, as you say . . . the acorn would be dust. But I still have the half."

"Then . . . Bae is alive!" Rumple gasped, hope suddenly blooming in his heart.

"Yes! Alive . . . and here."

"Here? But he . . . was shot and fell through a portal . . ."

"He is here. The acorn is warm, indicating he is close by. Perhaps Pan's prisoner."

"I must find him too!" Rumple said excitedly. "He's Henry's father."

"And we shall."

"Please, I'll make another deal with you."

"No. That won't be necessary," she cupped the acorn in her hand. "Our original deal shall suffice."

"All right. But . . . what shall I call you?"

"Your son called me Tiger Lily."

**Page~*~*~*~Break**

_Storybrooke:_

Belle woke slowly, luxuriating in the feel that she had just had the most incredible dream of herself and Rumple . . . and then she remembered her theory, and jumped out of bed and examined first the Booke of Dreams and then her notebook.

The Booke of Dreams was blank, like the night before, all her writing erased, as if by dreaming it she had somehow caused it to happen.

Then she read what she had written in her notebook . . . and it was the same as her dream.

She clasped her hands together and thought . . . _I was right. The Booke of Dreams . . . translates what I write into a dream . . . with it I can fulfill my deepest desires . . . and perhaps I can talk to Rumple . . . and help him come home to me again . . . along with Henry and everyone else._

Heady with triumph, for she had at last found a way to be useful to those she loved best, Belle pulled on her sneakers and coat, thinking she needed to meet Ruby at the diner soon . . . and as her hair swirled about her face, she smelled the perfume of wildflowers, like ambrosia to her nostrils. She inhaled deeply and smiled, thinking that tomorrow she would be having a rather different dream with Rumple . . . well, a little differently, she amended, with a wicked smirk.

**A/N: Hope you liked my AU version-because what's Neverland without Tiger Lily? And how can Belle help Rumple with the Booke of Dreams?**


	4. In Dreams, Truth

**4**

**In Dreams, Truth**

_Storybrooke:_

Belle spent most of the rest of the night at Ruby's apartment. They watched a sweet romantic flick called _Marilyn Hotchkiss' Ballroom Dancing and Charm School_. The actor playing the main character reminded Belle a great deal of her Rumple, and she loved how sweet and vulnerable he was. She also liked how it ended, with a happy ending. It was what she hoped for herself and Rumple, and prayed she could make happen with the Booke of Dreams.

The next day passed by uneventfully at the library, and by five o'clock Belle was upstairs in the apartment, eating chicken noodle soup and a sandwich of grilled cheese, tomato, and bacon before she began to write in her notebook again, detailing everything she wished to write, including the questions she wished to ask Rumple to see if he could communicate with her through the world of dreams.

Then she began to write down her fourth wicked fantasy, her facile mind conjuring a different setting completely from her other three, and hoping that she was correct with her assumption. After all, she was no magician, just a librarian with a fantastic imagination, a steadfast loving heart, and the hope that she could somehow help her beloved come home to her again.

Once she was done writing it all down in the Booke of Dreams, she went and got undressed, wearing a soft cotton green teddy, one that Rumple had purchased for her after she had gotten out of the asylum, and she made herself a cup of hot cocoa and sipped it while she relaxed upon her bed.

Imbibing the drink made her sleepy, and soon she was drifting away, and the book sparkled as it drew her into the dreamscape with its special magic . . . .

**Page~*~*~*~*~Break**

_Neverland:_

Rumple had agreed to let Tiger Lily scout Pan's new camp, for the dryad could vanish from sight using the trees for cover, and Pan would never even know she was there. Tiger Lily had taken him through a secret way known only to the dryads, a path that no human had ever trod until he had, a series of interconnecting tunnels woven of greenery that was invisible to any save those with earth magic, or under a dryad's invitation.

Rumple found that he was grateful to Tiger Lily not only for assisting him, but also for trusting him, and not holding his past against him. The dryad had a no-nonsense approach to rescuing Henry and Bae and defeating Pan. Her motto was, do what is necessary in order to accomplish the goal they had set, and she told him point blank, "I care not for what you have been, only for what you are now, or what you have done, only for what you shall do. The past is done, no sense in wallowing in it. What matters is now . . . and together you and I shall succeed, for to do anything less is inconceivable."

Her confidence bolstered his own, which was still flagging due to the seer's prophecy that he had heard long ago, saying a boy would be his undoing. He believed he was fated to die here, as he thought that Pan was the boy who would "undo" him, as he had led him to Bae long before when Bae was missing after being enchanted by the Pied Piper, playing a set of pan pipes. Of course, Pan had tricked him then, as he had before, for such was his nature—to trick, lie, deceive, and do everything he could to keep his stolen youth and power.

While Tiger Lily went to scout, and see if she could free Bae from Pan, Rumple was waiting for her return in the greenery tunnel, which looked like nothing so much as the inside of a hollowed out plant stem. There was nothing to look at but walls of endless green, and soon Rumple found himself growing sleepy. He sat down and leaned his head back against the tunnel's fibrous wall and eagerly sought solace in sleep, where he might encounter his beloved Belle again . . .

**Page~*~*~*~*~Break**

_The dreamscape:_

_Belle was lying upon a thick terrycloth towel striped blue and white, wearing a bikini of deep blue with a white flowering cherry blossom on the backside of it, and a smaller one on her right breast. It was the reverse of the chipped cup that was her talisman and Rumple's most cherished possession. Her hair flowed loosely over her shoulders and down to cover her front slightly as she lounged upon her towel, soaking up the rays of the tropical sun on the white sand beach._

_The ocean shushed and gurgled about five feet from her, the waves curling up and foaming on the wet sand. She had never been to the seashore, since Avonlea was not by the sea and neither had the Dark Castle been either, but it was a place she had always longed to visit, and now she could. _

_She turned upon hearing the soft crunching of footsteps along the sand and saw Rumple walking towards her, in brown leather sandals, a pair of Billabong board shorts in red and gold, and a gold metallic Quiksilver tank top. His hair was caught in a woven leather headband, and his expressive brown eyes were crinkled slightly from the strong sunlight._

_"Rumple! Come and soak up the sun with me," she invited, and beckoned him over, sitting up on the towel._

_"Anytime, dearie," he said, wearing that signature grin she adored. He came and curled up next to her on the towel, looking out on the ocean and saying quietly, "A quiet day at the beach, huh, Belle?"_

_"I thought it would be a nice change of pace, since I never really visited the ocean before." She sniffed the salty air appreciatively. "Isn't it great?"_

_"It's pleasant," Rumple allowed. "But what's even more pleasant is you being here with me, dearie." He looked her up and down. "You remind me of a mermaid, just out of the sea, relaxing upon the land in a secluded cove."_

_"Oh? And you just happened to stumble upon me?" she queried playfully._

_"No. I was drawn here. It was fate," he replied, and then he began to trace her collarbone with the tip of his finger. _

_His touch made her tremble as it ignited her like dry wood to a flame, making her arch herself against him like a contented cat begging to be petted. "Rumple!" she whispered, saying his name as if it were the last secret she would ever need to know._

_He gave her a slow smile, knowing perfectly well how his touch affected her, and then he moved his hands down lower, his fingers finding her breasts and gently cupping them, using the tips of his fingers to arouse her to a fever pitch._

_She put her arms about him and began kissing him feverishly, delighting in the feel of him snuggled close to her, his lips on hers, making her burn with a slow aching heat that eclipsed even the sun's tropical rays. She buried her fingers in his silky hair, pulling off the headband so she could run her hands through its sleek brown length, while she kissed him over and over._

_Finally she drew back slightly, her breath coming in harsh pants, gazing at her beloved with her heart in her eyes. "Rumple . . . each time we part I find I leave another piece of myself behind . . . and that's not what I want."_

_"Neither do I. You are my heart, my soul—"_

_"My everything," they said the last part together. _

_Their mouths met again in a kiss that stole the breath from their bodies . . . and then returned it, as they gave each unto the other the deepest part of themselves, without reservation, holding nothing back. It was a kiss that seared them with its tempestuous fire, the magic of true love irrevocably binding them together forever._

_A pure white light washed over them then, and when it faded, Belle could feel her connection to Rumple intensify. For the drawing of five heartbeats she could feel his abiding love for her, it filled the hollow spaces in her heart and soul, completing her, and she knew her love for him did the same._

_He clasped her to him, murmuring, "Belle. Belle," as if her name were a talisman that could protect him against anything. _

_"Rumplestiltskin," she said, gently holding him and gazing into his eyes. "I need to ask you something. Here you're with me, but in reality . . . you're in Neverland looking for Henry. How are you? Have you found him yet? Or are you still looking?"_

_His eyes widened, he looked startled._

_She waited for his reply, hoping against hope that her little gamble would pay off._

_He swallowed, blinked, and then answered, "I . . . I'm fine . . . I'm with an old friend of Bae's. She's promised to help me get Henry back."_

_A smile of pure excitement spread over her face. "Rumple! You can talk to me! Just like I was standing next to you."_

_"Dearie, you are standing next to me," he chuckled._

_"Only in your dreams."_

_"I know. Because your dreams and mine . . . are the same."_

_"It's because of the magic, isn't it?"_

_"What magic is that?"_

_"The magic of the book I found in your shop. Next to the chipped cup. I found the journal, Rumple. The Booke of Dreams."_

_"The Booke of Dreams," he said reverently. "That's an ancient magic, Belle. A magic that goes back before recorded history . . . when sometimes the only way for lovers forced to part was to communicate in dreams . . . and in those dreams live a life together . . . it's the truest expression of love there is . . ."_

_"You mean . . . with it I can share my dreams with you?"_

_"Yes . . . and make dreams come true," he replied._

_"Where did you get it?"_

_"It was part of an inheritance bequeathed to me by the spinners who raised me. They told me that one day the book would help save my life and the lives of those I cared about . . . if used correctly. I left the book behind because I didn't want to risk it falling into the wrong hands . . . and I hoped you might find it, but didn't dare tell you of it, in case Pan had spies."_

_"And I did find it, Rumple! And now we can be together. I can help you get home," Belle said happily._

_"Once I find Henry. And Bae too."_

_"Bae? Rumple . . . Bae's dead."_

_"No. I was mistaken. He's not, Belle! Bae's alive . . . and I'm going to save him too. And maybe by doing so I'll prove to him that I really truly do care about him."_

_"Rumple, that's wonderful! How can I help?"_

_"Well, with the Booke, you have control of the dreamscape," Rumple told her. "Anything you can imagine, anything you write in it, can come true here. And we learned that it wasn't just Greg and Tamara behind Henry's kidnapping, but an old enemy of mine . . . Peter Pan. He's not like the stories of him, Belle. He's old and dangerous . . . a wicked being who likes to play deadly games and kill those who don't follow his rules. And if . . . if we can manage to trap Pan here, confine him, we may be able to defeat him in Neverland as well. Sometimes what happens in the dreamscape can affect a person in the waking world too."_

_"You're saying that I can help you defeat Pan by writing about it and then dreaming it?"_

_"Yes. By dreaming him into your dream and then holding him there. It's a bit of a tricky situation, dearie, but I have faith in you. Believe and you can do anything."_

_"And so can you, Rumple. You **are** coming home to me," Belle said firmly._

_"Perhaps," he said. "Please know it's what I want more than anything. But sometimes, Belle, we don't always get what we want. And all magic comes with a price."_

_"And the price won't be paid by you, Rumple!" she cried. "It'll be paid by him."_

_"As you wish, dearie," he said tenderly, and then he drew her to him and kissed her until she melted in his embrace. "I love you, Belle. Now, forever, always. You are my alpha and omega and I shall love you till death and beyond."_

_"And that's exactly how I love you, Rumple." Then she kissed him again._

_He drew her down on the towel, and showed her once again how much he adored her, using the dreamscape to give her all the love she had been denied by being separated from him._

_And beneath the tropical sun, he made lazy gentle passionate love to her, satisfying both their needs and leaving both of them wanting more . . ._

_When she lay in his arms, half-asleep, he said, "I have to go now, Belle. I need to rescue Bae. Until tomorrow, sweetheart."_

_She yawned and murmured, "I'll see you in my dreams, Rumple."_

_Then she shut her eyes so she wouldn't see him leave._

**Page~*~*~*~Break**

_Neverland:_

Rumple opened his eyes when Tiger Lily shook his shoulder. "Huh? Oh, sorry. I must have dozed off."

Tiger Lily just shot him an amused glance. "I guess it's true, what they say about humans and traveler vines. They really do put you in a trance."

"Maybe. Tiger Lily, did you find them?"

"I found Bae. He's in a cage tied to a pole on the far side of the camp."

"And Henry?"

"No. He wasn't among the Lost Boys at the camp. But we can find him after we rescue your son," the dryad said. "I've weakened the bars about the cage with my magic. You should be able to bend them and break them."

"Good. But how can we get close to them?"

"Easy. You'll use my mist talent, Rumple. While I distract them, you get Baelfire."

"All right. Let's do this," he said decisively.

"Follow me," she said, and led him out of the tunnel.

They walked for several more minutes through the thick jungle before they came to the outer edge of the Lost Boys camp.

Rumple peered through the screen of vegetation and saw that many of the boys were sprawled on the ground, sleeping or gazing at the stars, completely oblivious to what could have come out of the jungle to harm them. Apparently they were confident Pan would protect them against anything.

Foolish little boys.

They hadn't learned, as Rumple had, that Pan protected himself first and everyone else second.

He felt Tiger Lily's hands on his shoulders, then the dryad's grip shifted as she drew her hands slowly down his body, and he felt a cold tingle run through him.

When he looked down at himself, he saw he was shrouded in a silvery mist, it was almost like he was made of droplets of water.

"'Tis done," she said. "Now go, quickly! I'll distract those who are still awake."

Rumple ran into the camp, unmindful of the Lost Boys and the fire dancing merrily in the center of the camp. With the mist cloak surrounding him, no Lost Boy could spot him, and he darted right past them to the cage that swayed in the wind tied to the tree.

As he approached the cage, he heard an unearthly voice singing . . .singing a lullaby . . . and when he took a quick glance back, saw that all the Lost Boys were asleep . . . with vacuous smiles on their faces.

Dryad magic. It was in a class by itself.

Rumple took the door of the cage and pulled hard, praying that Tiger Lily's spell had weakened the hardened bamboo enough.

It had.

The door tore apart like confetti in his hands.

Then he stepped back, calling softly, "Bae? You're free."

"Papa?" Bae's voice sounded confused as he stuck his head out of the cage.

"I'm here. You just can't see me, dearie, because I'm surrounded by a mist cloak."

"A mist cloak? But only dyads can . . ." Bae trailed off, climbing from the cage and landing on the ground.

"I met your friend, Tiger Lily. She agreed to help me rescue you and Henry." Rumple said, and then he reached out a hand and pulled his son beneath the mist cloak. He knew they should hurry, that speed was paramount, but he needed to take a moment to do something he'd longed to do for years.

He hugged his son tight, tears dampening Bae's shoulder. "Bae . . . I thought you were dead . . . that bitch shot you . . ."

"I know, Papa. But she's gone now . . . Pan . . . he ripped out her shadow . . . and Greg's too. Because they'd disobeyed him and tried to destroy magic . .. or so he claimed. I think it was because he just didn't need them anymore," Bae said quietly.

"That's what he does, Bae. He's like a spoiled child with too many toys. As soon as he gets bored and doesn't want to play with them anymore, he breaks them." He released his son then.

Bae looked slightly ill, saying, "Yeah, you can say that again. Come on, let's get the hell out of here. They might look like innocent little kids asleep, but believe me, some of them are vicious backstabbing little weasels who'd sell their own mothers to save their own souls."

Rumple put an arm around Bae and said, "That's because they don't know the real meaning of family."

Then they ran back across the camp and into the jungle, where Tiger Lily's tunnel awaited.

**Page~*~*~*~Break**

_Storybrooke:_

Belle awoke with a smile upon her face, finding that she was happier than she had been in a long time.

Now she knew exactly what the Booke of Dreams did, she could use it to speak with Rumple and even help Rumple with his mission. She clutched the covers tightly to her and thought about seeing Rumple again soon . . . not just in dreams.

And when they were at last together again . . . she would give him a welcome home that was the stuff dreams were made of.


	5. Reconciliations

**5**

**Reconciliations**

_Storybrooke:_

Belle decided to do some research on Peter Pan after her conversation with Rumple, figuring the more she knew about the fiend, the better off she'd be. She found a few books in Gold's shop that detailed the legend of Peter Pan, the "boy-who-never-grew-up" and how he was supposed to send his shadows all over the world to gather children to "keep him company" and make the "lost ones" into free spirits answerable only to one law—his own.

In some of the stories, the legend said the Lost Boys were willing followers of Pan, in others it claimed he stole them from their homes and made them his slaves. Belle suspected it was a little of both. Then, having exhausted that source, she turned to another—Henry's Once Upon a Time history.

Flipping through the book's pages, she found several stories about Peter Pan, the Darling children, Baelfire, Tink, and Rumple. And in the book she also found mention of how she could go about trapping him within the dreamscape. She would need to lure his shadow in first . . . and then he had to follow to get it back for the shadow was the source of all his magic . . . and then she could trap his spirit there in the dreamscape . . . while Rumple used something to bind his body and prevent him from ever doing harm to anyone again.

And since Belle was the dreamscape's mistress, she could give Rumple a chance to have his redemption and his revenge on the little bastard.

She nibbled on the end of a fingernail and tried to considered what would best entice a shadow, her hand resting upon the Once Upon a Time book.

**Page~*~*~*~*~Break**

_Neverland:_

Tiger Lily led Rumple and Bae through the traveler vine and back into her section of the island, where a rich plethora of trees surrounded a sunny glade with a sparkling stream. "We'll be safe here, Rumple. My sisters and I have set wards about this place and no Lost Boy dares to confront us on our home ground, such as it is." Then she turned and embraced Bae, grinning from ear to ear. "Hello, Baelfire! My, you're all grown-up, and quite good-looking too!"

Bae hugged her back, flushing slightly. "That was bound to happen, since I left Neverland. And you . . . Tiger Lily, you look just the same as when I left."

The dryad tossed her head. "That's because I age as my tree does, very very slowly. But I _do_ age, unlike that freak of nature Pan." She grimaced. "He destroys the Balance by his unnatural feeding on people's shadow souls and sacrifices of his Lost Boys. He believes he is immortal and no price need to be paid for his actions, but he is sadly mistaken. There is _always_ a price for magic, dark or light, and he has deferred his payment for centuries, believing he is above such things."

"He isn't. No magic wielder is," Rumple disagreed.

Tiger Lily nodded in agreement. Then she looked at Bae again. "Baelfire, why didn't you tell me your father was a magician? In all of your talks, you never mentioned that, simply that he abandoned you and was dead. Why?"

"You told her I was dead?" Rumple cried, shocked.

Bae frowned. "It was better than the truth . . . that you abandoned me for your damned magic!"

"I didn't mean to do that!" Rumple argued. "Won't you listen to me for once and let me explain?"

"Why should I listen to any excuses you've come up with?" Bae demanded hotly.

Rumple flinched like his son had just shoved a sword through his gut. "Bae, please, just . . ."

"Stop it!" Tiger Lily snapped. She glared at both men angrily. "This . . . strife between you isn't helping anyone except Pan! Do you not realize that's what he wants? He wants you to be at each other's throats, to quarrel, to use old troubles to prevent you from working together to find Henry."

The two men both stared at her, plainly they'd been so caught up in their emotional baggage that this hadn't occurred to either of them.

Tiger Lily scowled. "You two must come to an accord . . . and learn to deal with what has been and gone . . . or else Pan shall be able to twist you around his blasted finger and destroy you." She pointed at Baelfire. "You say he abandoned you . . . but there are two sides to every story. So quit acting like a child and give him a chance to tell his side. It's only right. And he is your father, you owe him the courtesy of listening, even if you might not like what he has to say."

Bae gaped at her. "You don't even know him!"

"I know enough. I know he has powerful magic and that he has come here to save his grandson. And you, once he discovered you were alive. Does that seem like a man who doesn't care about his family?"

"No, but . . ."

"Then if I were you, boy, I'd shut up and listen. If you do, you might learn something," she snorted.

"You were a lot nicer when I was a kid," Bae growled.

"You're not any longer. You're an adult and I can't afford to coddle you," she said bluntly. "My people's lives are at stake and unless Pan is defeated we'll all be destroyed. I don't have time to waste with this." She turned and climbed halfway up a huge oak tree. "I shall leave for now and let you talk this out. But when I return in a few hours, you had better put all of this in perspective . . . or I'll bang your heads together until you see sense!"

Then she melted into the tree, leaving Bae and Rumple alone.

"Hell, I think she actually meant that!" Bae muttered softly.

"I don't doubt she did," his father chuckled. "Now . . . will you please let me talk?"

"Okay," his son agreed reluctantly.

Rumple told Bae about how he had never intended to break the deal he'd made, but had become terrified at the last minute that if he used the portal, he would become nothing more than a crippled cowardly spinner again . . . helpless to protect his son in this new realm . . . and then what might become of them? Then too, the curse of the Dark One would not just let him give up the power of the dagger. "I regretted not going with you as soon as that portal shut . . . but there was no going back . . . and I tried to find another way to get to you, but the Blue Fairy refused to help me . . ."

"She did?" Bae looked shocked.

"Yes. She claimed the only way I could get you back was with a curse . . ." Rumple explained how he'd come to create the curse and how he had spent centuries searching for Bae in their world. "All I ever wanted was to find you and to tell you how sorry I was and that I love you . . . I never meant to do to you what my father did to me . . . what Pan did to me . . ."

"Your papa left you? And you knew Peter Pan?"

Rumple nodded, grateful that at last his son was allowing him to talk. "My father died trying to skip out on a deal he'd made over a gambling debt at the tavern one night. He was a wastrel and irresponsible and after my mother died, he left me with these two spinner women, friends of hers. They were sisters, Maura and Elizabeth, and they were widows. Both had children . . . and had lost them from sickness and the starving times brought on by the First Ogre War. They . . . they felt sorry for me and they allowed me to stay with them while my father was running scams down at the tavern. He left me with them most days and nights . . . he regarded me as an unwanted burden . . . he was going to leave without me the night they found him and killed him," Rumple said bitterly. "After he was gone, I lived with them, and they were kind to me, they taught me how to spin and weave and yet I was shy and lonely . . . most of the village boys wouldn't play with me, they said I was bad luck and trouble and the son of a coward without honor."

This was the first time Rumple had ever told Bae about his childhood, and his son found himself listening intently as his father spoke, and even sympathizing with him, as he too had grown up being teased and bullied on occasion due to Rumple's being labeled a coward.

"So I spent much of my time spinning, and became very very good at it at a young age. When I was ten I could spin like a journeyman, since that was what I did every day. Until I met Peter. He was ten to my seven and much more worldly than I was. He was also more . . . charismatic. Boys liked him. He was my first real friend and I thought . . . at first I thought he hung the moon. But what I didn't realize was that Peter was a thief, a con artist, just like my father. He was an orphan too, like me, but he was a rebel. He didn't want to learn a trade, didn't want to be respectable, all he wanted was to have fun and do whatever he wanted. And even then he craved power."

"What did he do to you?" Bae asked.

"He tried to make me like him. A grafter, a cheat . . .and for awhile, he succeeded. I helped him with his little schemes, not really thinking about what I was doing, because I wanted him to stay my friend. He tricked me into doing what he wanted . . . and I was a desperate little fool and followed along, until the day he asked me to steal money from Elizabeth and Maura, my guardians. It was then I realized what he truly was . . . and what he would make of me. And the last thing I ever wanted was to be like my father. I didn't want to become what he'd been or do what he'd done. So I refused to do what Peter wanted. It was the first time I'd ever done so. And also the last." Rumple admitted.

Bae listened as Rumple told him about Peter becoming furious that Rumple wouldn't be his catspaw, and had threatened to leave if he didn't do what Pan wanted. Rumple had argued that the Spinner sisters were like his family, and you didn't do that to family. And Pan had sneered and mocked him for loyalty to old women and said he was a fool.

Then Pan had stolen a ring from the alderman, one of the most powerful men in the village . . . and somehow the ring ended up in Rumple's pocket. "He'd planted it on me, of course. To get back at me for not doing what he wanted. And when I protested I hadn't done it, they labeled me a liar as well as a thief and beat me near within an inch of my life."

"A seven-year-old kid?" Bae gasped, horrified.

Rumple sighed. "It didn't matter to the alderman. He was a cold hard man and all he cared about was his pride and the fact that he'd been made a fool of by a child. By the time he was finished with me, I could barely walk, and I was almost a week healing from it. And then Pan returned, and when I cried that he had betrayed me, he laughed and said, you win some, you lose some. I realized then he was no friend to me, and I told him to go away. He did, but not before he threatened me, saying that someday I'd regret my choice, when he was strong and powerful and immortal. That's why, when I found you with him that day, when he was the Pied Piper, I didn't give you a chance to play his game. I knew what he was like, and I didn't trust _him,_ not you, Bae. I was trying to protect you."

"Yeah, I can understand that now," his son said. "I'd have done the same if it were Henry. When I came here that time, he showed me a drawing of Henry's face, said this was the boy he was looking for. Who would have guessed the kid would be my son?"

"He did. Somehow he saw a possible future and everything he's done since has been to destroy me and mine . . . at least that's what I assume," Rumple said heavily.

"He's not going to, Papa," Bae said swiftly. "Tiger Lily was right. I'm . . . glad now that I listened to your side of things. It doesn't erase the past but now I can . . . get a better perspective on things. And since I can't change the past and neither can you . . . we'll just have to go on from here."

"I truly am sorry for all that I've done," Rumple said sincerely. "And I'd like a second chance to be a family with you . . . and with Henry and Emma."

"You know . . . I think I'd like that too," Bae said, his voice roughened. "So . . . let's get Henry out of Pan's hands and then . . . then we can work on the rest, okay, Papa?"

"That'd be fine, Bae," Rumple said, then he tentatively reached out and hugged his son.

And Bae hugged him back.

Tiger Lily appeared abruptly, stepping out of the oak tree as if she were walking out the front door of a house. She raised an eyebrow and said softly, "Have you resolved your differences?"

"Yeah, we're good. So get any ideas you have about banging our heads together out of your mind," Bae told her.

She smirked at him. "Good. Because now we need to work on getting your son back."

**Page~*~*~*~*~Break**

_Storybrooke:_

Belle had a few theories about how to trap a shadow, but she wanted to wait until she spoke with Rumple before considering them. Rumple had said Pan was an old enemy of his, but how well did he really know the devious being? That would be one of the things they'd discuss tonight.

She hoped that Rumple had managed to rescue Bae and Henry also, since from what she'd read in the Once Upon a Time book, Pan wasn't to be trusted and his reason for kidnapping Henry had to be because he wanted to use the boy for some terrible scheme. The book said that Pan's goal in life was to be forever young, and so gain immortality. But in order to do that, he required life forces from young children, and he sometimes killed a Lost Boy to satisfy that urge, the boy disappeared and was never seen again, because Pan had ripped apart the child's shadow and killed him.

Belle feared greatly for Henry's life.

This time when she wrote herself and Rumple into the dreamscape, she didn't focus upon her own longings too much, instead leaving Rumple room to discuss important issues with her.

Smiling, she wrote in graceful cursive in the Booke of Dreams, a scene that was both from memory and created of her imagination . . .

_The dreamscape:_

_This time they met in the castle library, which he had given to her after she had fallen off the ladder taking the drapes down and he'd caught her in his arms. "It's just another room for you to dust," he'd told her casually, though they both knew it wasn't._

_The library. It was, for her sanctuary and salvation, the one place she felt at home in, among the crackling pages of her books and the quiet peace of the evening, a place she could find solace in from the musings of her lonely heart, back when she had been in Avonlea. Now she shared it with Rumple, and waited for him, wearing the blue and white gown she had made for herself out of the cloth he had woven for her. _

_Her hands lovingly caressed the books, they were old friends, and she pulled down one and sat in the red leather recliner, thumbing through it idly as she waited for Rumple to come to her._

**Page~*~*~*~*~Break**

_Neverland:_

"The trick to defeating Pan is to catch him off guard," Tiger Lily said, tucking her feet under her as she sat cradled in a low hanging branch of the oak tree. "And since he possesses an awareness of the island, that will be difficult to do."

"But it can be done," Rumple stated. "Only it may cost a life in the end."

"True, but . . . you sound almost fatalistic, Rumple," Tiger Lily observed. "You speak as though dying is not a maybe, but a certainty. Why?"

"Because for me, it is," he replied. "There was a prophecy, given to me by a child Seer, who said that I would be reunited with my son because of a boy, and yet that same boy would be my undoing. I believe that boy is Pan, since he led me to Baelfire not once, but twice now."

"There's a prophecy that you're going to die?" Bae cried, alarmed.

Tiger Lily was frowning. "No. He _thinks_ there is," she corrected. "Humans and their partial Visions! It's enough to drive one mad." She huffed softly. "Let me tell you about prophecy, Rumplestiltskin. Prophecy is not an absolute, but a might be. A will be if one believes it to be so. Now this is something I am versed in, since I am my people's Visionary. And I tell you now, no human can know exactly what will be . . . even I cannot, not with all my centuries of knowledge. For your Seer to claim an absolute means but one thing . . . she was lying. Or telling you only part of the truth."

"How can you be sure?" Rumple questioned.

"Because I have lived nigh onto eight centuries with my own Gift, and I can tell you this—prophecy is _never_ what one believes it is, there is always a hidden meaning within it, for the future is always in motion, and cannot be predicted with a great deal of accuracy, since what we do today shall affect what happens tomorrow. Also, belief plays a great role in prophecy," Toger Lily told them. "If you believe something hard enough, you can make it come true."

"A self-fulfilling prophecy," Bae muttered.

"Yes," Tiger Lily nodded. "Also, consider the source—a child, even a prescient one, does not have the skills to predict accurately . . . even if she thinks she does. Tell me this prophecy again . . . and who delivered it to you."

Rumple did, repeating the exact words he'd heard and what the child looked like.

"She had _eyes_ in her hands?" Bae looked totally grossed out.

Tiger Lily looked amused. "How very . . . uncomfortable she must have been, having to eat with such things. And how utterly ridiculous as well. The Third Eye is a euphemism for the Sight, not an actual appendage. Rumple, this Seer . . . seems to me to be a fake . . . one who set you up to believe in this prophecy of your "undoing", and therefore everything that came out of her mouth is suspect."

"You're saying she lied to me?" Rumple was outraged.

Tiger Lily nodded. "If not an outright lie, then a lie of omission."

"But . . . she prophesied for me before . . . that I would die if I fought the ogres and never come home again to Bae and my wife," Rumple said. "Was that a lie too?"

"Possibly. She could have Seen true then . . . and not afterwards . . .I'm simply saying that most of those with the Gift do not roam around handing out prophecies to all who ask."

"She was the duke's prisoner, kept in a cage."

"Then she might have said anything to earn her freedom," Tiger Lily said. "Even so, Rumple, the wording of the vision does not say you are going to die . . . but that boy will be your undoing."

"How would you interpret it?"

"A curse can be undone too," Tiger Lily reminded him pointedly.

"The only way to undo my curse is to kill me," Rumple argued.

"Not so. What breaks all curses?" Tiger Lily countered.

"True love," both men recited.

"And there you have it," Tiger Lily stated. "True love can break any curse . . . and perhaps that is what you should focus on . . . after we rescue your grandson."

Rumple nodded, thinking that Belle's love for him just might be able to do what had been tried before but failed because he had not trusted her enough to allow it. "So . . . I think that in order to rescue Henry we have to distract Pan. Luckily we have the means to do that thanks to Belle . . ." He told Bae and Tiger Lily about Belle and the Booke of Dreams, and how it could be used to entrap Pan's shadow soul and by doing so, enable them to trap Pan's physical body as well.

"Trap his body in what, Papa?" Bae wanted to know.

"There is an item in my shop that will accomplish that task," Gold mused. "I just need someone to retrieve it for me. Tiger Lily, can you cross realms?"

Tiger Lily shook her head. "Not now. I am much weakened from what I was, and so need to stay near my tree. But . . . I may be able to ask another for a favor. Her name is Ariel, she's a mermaid, and she can cross realms."

"Would she be willing to help us?" Bae asked.

"I believe so, but you would have to ask her," Tiger Lily said.

"All right. I can make her a deal," Rumple said.

"There is something else you ought to know," Tiger Lily stated. "The dark of the moon is in three days time. And that is when Pan usually sacrifices one of his minions in order to remain young."

"Then he could sacrifice Henry!" Bae cried in alarm. "We have to get him out of there before then."

"Relax, Bae. We will. But I need to trick Pan into thinking he's won," Rumple said. "And in order to do that I have to make him think Henry's still with him after we rescue him."

"How are you going to do that? Some kind of illusion?" Bae queried.

"No. Better. I'm going to create a doppelganger. A fake double. But I need some of his essence, if you will. Like his hair," Rumple said.

"Great! It's not like there's a barber around here," sighed Baelfire.

"I can get what you need," Tiger Lily said. "He'll never know I was there either."

"Just be careful," Bae cautioned. "I know you're vulnerable to cold iron and the Lost Boys don't use anything but that . . . and they tip their weapons with dreamshade."

"Dreamshade is no danger to me," Tiger Lily said. "It's a plant secretion, and plants cannot harm me, whatever they might do to a human. But I shall be as quick as I can."

Then she vanished into the oak tree, using her magic to travel through the trees and find Pan and Henry.

Bae shuddered slightly as he tried to relax against the bole of a tree. "This place gives me the creeps. Always has."

"How did you come here?" Rumple asked.

"It's a long story, Papa."

"We have time. Tell me . . . if you like," Rumple said.

So Bae did, explaining about landing in London, being a thief, getting adopted by the Darlings, and then saving John and Michael from Pan's shadow. He told Rumple about falling into the ocean, and being rescued by Hook and his time aboard the pirate's ship. He told his father about discovering who Hook was and how the pirate had eventually betrayed him and given him over to Pan and the Lost Boys.

"But see, I was never really lost, because I had people I wanted to go back to, and I was never taken in by Pan's schemes," Bae said. "I never fully trusted him. There was always something shady about him . . .something not right . . . and all I ever wanted was to get the hell away from here, not join him and his gang. 'Cause that's what he is, you know. A gang leader and these kids are like his homies."

"Brainwashed," Rumple snorted.

"Some of them, yeah. But others, like Felix, they chose to come here, and here's another thing. Pan would have you believe all these boys are orphans, but that's a lie too. Oh, there's some who are, but others . . . others he stole away from their families, like he tried to do with the Darlings. And he's kept them here . . . prisoners to his little gang and his rules." Bae's face was hard. "If we stop him . . . we have to get those kids back to Storybrooke."

"Yes. And we will." Rumple assured him.

"Good. Because I always felt bad escaping this hellhole and leaving some of those kids behind," Bae sighed.

"Why don't you get some sleep?" Rumple suggested. "I can set a ward."

"Where's your dagger, Papa?" Bae asked then.

"Somewhere I don't even know where it is," Rumple explained. "I removed my own shadow and had it hide it from everyone, including myself, just in case."

"Oh," Bae seemed rather relieved at that, then he yawned. "Okay, maybe I will take a nap." He tucked his hands behind his head and closed his eyes.

He heard Rumple chanting softly and then all was quiet.

Rumple waited until Bae was asleep before drifting off himself to find Belle.

**Page~*~*~*~Break**

_The dreamscape:_

_Rumple found himself in familiar territory when he entered the dreamscape. This was his library in the Dark Castle. He was wearing his familiar ensemble too, his gold shirt and red vest and his leather pants, though he did not have the gold skin and reptilian eyes of the Dark One, here he was simply Rumple._

_Belle came running to him and hugged him to her, covering his face and neck with possessive kisses, like a starving woman at a banquet. Her small hands dug into his shoulders as she gripped him feverishly. "Rumple! Gods, I've missed you!"_

_"Hey, sweetheart. You seem like you want to rip my clothes off," he teased, kissing her back with equal ardor._

_"That's very tempting, Rumple," Belle chuckled wickedly. "Maybe later we can do that."_

_"Sounds like fun, dearie. But only if you let me play with you too," he said mischievously. _

_She tossed her head, daring him to follow her across the room._

_He did, and she led him to his familiar leather recliner and when he had seated himself in it, she sat on his lap, snuggling up against him as if he was a teddy bear. She put her ear to his chest and heard his heartbeat, echoing in her head. "Okay. Here's what I've learned so far about Peter Pan . . ."_

_Rumple listened to her theories, and said, "I think I know a way to entice him here. As a child he was very fond of sweets . . . like cakes, pies, scones, and donuts. He used to make bakers in my village his targets, and steal pies and such from people's windows every chance he got. He called it the Grab n' Go Dessert Game." He told Belle what he had told Bae, about how he had been seduced into being Peter's accomplice in petty thievery and what had eventually happened to end that friendship._

_"So you think if I . . . posed as a baker that might entice him to believe in the dream?" Belle surmised._

_"Yes. I think he still has the same weaknesses and cravings now that he did then," Rumple said. "And since you're the dreamscape's mistress, you need never fear him, since you alone control what happens in the dream."_

_"He can't . . . use his magic to hurt me?"_

_"No, love. As the holder of the Booke of Dreams, you can render him powerless," Rumple soothed, hugging her to him and stroking her hair._

_"And I can use the dream to give you a chance at the smug little brat too," Belle said._

_"Yes, if you wish," Rumple acquiesced._

_"I do." Then she ran her indigo gaze up and down him, undressing him with her eyes. "Let's play that game now, Rumple."_

_"What game's that, dearie?"_

_"The one where I tear off all your clothes," she mock-growled, and tugged open his vest._

_"Me too," he said, and then he pulled at the laces on her bodice, almost ripping them as he unlaced her._

_She shifted upon his lap, driving him crazy with the way she wriggled her bottom all over his thighs. Her hands were now scrabbling at his shirt, and buttons popped off everywhere as she yanked it open._

_He gave a sort of deep honeyed growl and tugged the top of her bodice down her arms. _

_"Whoa there, little tigress," he whispered, and then began to devour her hungrily, giving her little love bites and kissing her fiercely. _

_She gasped and gripped his shoulders hard._

_"Rumple! Don't stop!" she cried, and then she started tugging hard at his shirt, tearing it open and then kissing his throat and chest ecstatically._

_Soon pieces of their clothing were scattered all over the library, and she ducked around the table as he pursued her about the room, he wearing only his leather pants and she in her stockings and garters, her chemise in tatters._

_Finally, he caught her, pulling her to him. "Now, now, dearie. Running away's not part of our deal." He drew her up against him, playfully pinching her bottom._

_"Rumplestiltskin!" she yelped. Then she pinched his bottom in return._

_He mock-glared at her and untied a garter, taking forever to slide it down her leg, making her writhe in his embrace. _

_"No fair! I can't do that to you with those pants on!" she whimpered._

_"Yes, you can. It's your dream, dearie. Make it so."_

_Her eyes sparkling, she proceeded to undress him as he was her . . . and make him crazy with desire._

_Finally all their clothes were in a heap upon the floor . . . and Belle had pushed Rumple onto the recliner and straddled him, showing him just how much she missed him, bringing him to edge of ecstasy before following him over it, becoming one in a brilliant burst of passion that left them both breathless . . ._

**Page~*~*~*~Break**

_Storybrooke:_

Belle woke with her breath still rasping in her throat, the sheets tangled about her, still feeling Rumple's hands upon her, and her lips aching from his kisses. She straightened out the blankets and muttered, "Who the hell says making love in the library isn't sexy?" Just thinking about the dream made her go all weak in the knees. "Rumple, come home, damn it! Kick that blasted brat's ass and get back here . . . before I go crazy wanting you. And not just you . . . I want a baby, Gold."

She lay back among her pillows, and wondered what her beloved Rumple would say to that . . . a baby of their own, that they could raise together, and teach the true meaning of love and trust, true love's finest blessing.

She cupped her belly and imagined it round with their child . . . and fell asleep humming an old lullaby, surrounded by her books and wearing one of Rumple's shirts, which smelled of vanilla and spice.

**A/N: How did you like the Bae/Rumple interaction? And the backstory with Rumple and Pan? Oh yeah, and that last part . . . I had to put that in with Belle saying she wanted Gold's baby, LOL! And I'll bet you he'd say . . . hell, yeah, dearie!**


	6. The Go-Between

**6**

**The Go-Between**

_Storybrooke:_

Belle waited on the docks for the mermaid known as Ariel to come through the cloaking spell and into the harbor. Rumple had told her in the dreamscape after their rather wild session of lovemaking that he'd be making a deal with the mermaid to come there and help Belle retrieve an item from his shop . . . one that could entrap Pan's body forever and render him unable to wreak havoc on any children . . . or resident of Storybrooke, again.

Belle waited, strands of her auburn hair whipping around her face as she stared off across the choppy gray waters of the harbor, stirred into a froth by the sudden wind that had sprung up. She clutched her thick woolen gray pea coat closer to her, and wished she'd worn pants instead of her little gray mini-skirt and black tights with the lace-up Armani suede half boots she'd chosen this morning. Her hands were encased in black leather gloves and she'd put a raspberry beret on her head.

Rumple had told her approximately when to expect her, but said he couldn't be exact because he didn't know how long it might take Ariel to swim there against all the currents of Neverland and the oceans of Earth. But he'd asked her to please be at the docks tomorrow evening, around six o'clock, and there she was.

As her cerulean eyes tracked on the water, Belle noticed a sudden ripple . . . then she felt something different enter the harbor. Rumple had told her that as the caster of the cloaking spell, she could feel when someone entered it that belonged . . . or when someone was trying to break past it that did not.

Within moments, she saw a red head break the surface of the water, followed by a large sail-like green and blue scaled tail.

Ariel swam like lightning towards the docks, and as she drew near, suddenly leaped up, propelled by the great force in her tail.

Water and silvery light swirled about her form . . . and suddenly a tall lithe young woman with hair bright as a sea anemone and pearly skin emerged from the water and onto the docks, her feet encased in expensive crocodile leather shoes and wearing a marine blue dress that just touched her ankles. The dress was elegant yet simple, with three-quarter length sleeves and a slightly flared skirt, the bodice scalloped and with a sea star decoration embroidered in gold thread on it.

Belle recognized Rumple's hand in the clothes, his stamp of elegant refinement was unmistakable.

Around one wrist was a shimmering golden and green agate bracelet, and Ariel held a small greenish-blue bag with a drawstring in one hand.

"You must be Ariel. I'm Belle, welcome to Storybrooke," Belle greeted her with a smile and held out a hand.

"Ariel. Pleased to meet you," the mermaid said, and clasped Belle's hand in her own. Her voice was low and musical, almost as if she sang the words, and her eyes were the deep sea green of kelp.

Belle was surprised to feel the mermaid's hand was so normal, nothing the least bit fishy or slimy about it. "So . . . my Rumple sent you to me?"

"Yes. He came with Tiger Lily to make a deal with me. He asked me to bring him an item from his shop to help them capture Pan, and I agreed . . . and he enchanted this bracelet to give me human form on land when I wished in order to do so . . . and so that I might find my true love, Eric. That was my price, you see, a chance to be reunited with him, since we were separated by the curse."

"And did he happen to tell you what the item was he wants?"

"Well, he told me to tell you it was hidden with something that was a symbol of your love, and only with it could you find it," Ariel said softly. "I know that's rather vague, but . . . he is a sorcerer, so they tend to speak in riddles."

"Or if they're trying to avoid someone finding out something important," Belle said. "He once told me that Pan has spies everywhere . . . so he could have been deliberately mysterious. So . . . let's go to Rumple's shop and see what he wants you to fetch him."

They went across the street and Belle led her to Gold's Pawnshop and Antiques. She dug the key out of her purse and unlocked the door.

Then she relocked it after they were both inside, making sure the shutters were pulled tight so no one could see inside.

Then she flipped a switch and the lights came on, startling Ariel.

"Ooh! Is that some kind of magic light?"

"No. It's called electricity," Belle explained, looking around for the one object she knew Rumple prized above all others.

"E-lec-tricity," Ariel repeated the unfamiliar word. "And are all human . . . homes powered with this?"

"Yes, and businesses, like this one," Belle murmured, and finally recalled that Gold had put the tea cup away again before leaving.

She went and slipped aside the picture above the glass case and revealed the safe. She dialed the combination, doing three different ones to unlock all the locks before she opened the door.

Inside was her and Rumple's chipped cup.

She lovingly removed it from the little velvet bag he'd put it in and placed it on the counter.

"That's it?" Ariel asked curiously.

"Yes. My chipped cup," Belle said, and then she wondered how it was supposed to lead her to the thing Rumple needed.

She cupped it in her hand . . . and suddenly it began to glow and then rivulets of blue light flowed out of it and across the floor . . . to highlight a certain square of floorboard in a corner of the shop.

Kneeling, Belle pried up the floorboard . . . and found inside a hole a small box of obsidian with a red glowing jewel in it. It felt warm to the touch and there were runes all over it.

Ariel gasped. "I know what this is! It's Pandora's Box!"

"Like in the legend?"

"Yes . . . and it can hold any magical being or object . . . for all eternity . . . unless a sorcerer of equal talent from the one who placed something in there releases it. Or someone who truly loves whatever is in the box." Ariel told her.

"So that's why it can hold Pan," Belle mused.

"That's why," Ariel said.

Belle handed her the box. "Keep it safe," she said.

"I will." Ariel assured her.

"Now . . . let's go and get something to eat back at my apartment," Belle invited.

"Ooh! Real human food!" Ariel squealed happily. "I haven't had any since I was with Eric a long time ago."

"Then come home with me and we'll have macaroni and cheese and salad," Belle said.

They left the shop, Belle locking up with the key, and headed over to the library.

**Page~*~*~*~*~Break**

_Neverland:_

Baelfire sat down on the log in front of the small fire Rumple had conjured and drank some tea his father had made, and ate some crackers, beef jerky, and a granola bar Rumple had brought along with him.

Beside him, Rumple ate his own crackers, jerky, and some trail mix. He also drank a cup of tea. He handed out some dried apricots, figs, and walnuts for dessert.

As they ate, Tiger Lily leaned against the bole of her tree, her bare toes fusing with the bark, sucking on a stalk of sugar cane.

As Bae munched his dried fruit, he looked at Rumple and said, "Papa, is there some way to . . . get a message to Henry? So he doesn't start to lose hope or something?"

Rumple looked thoughtful. "Perhaps. Tiger Lily?"

"I believe there might be. We could use a go-between, Rumple."

"A go-between?"

"Yes. Of course, we'd need to find the right one," the dryad said. "I can see for you while you write the message for him, Baelfire."

"Would you? Thanks! Now, what can I use to write?"

Tiger Lily held out her hands. In them appeared a square of papyrus and a small stick of charcoal. "Here. Use this. I'll be back soon and tell you what I found."

Bae took the paper and the charcoal.

She vanished into the oak tree.

Bae began to write, leaning on his knee and scribbling rapidly.

**Page~*~*~*~*~*~Break**

_The Lost Boys camp:_

Mouse was up before dawn, fetching enough water to refill the barrels and the cooking pot. He was a small scrawny child, around eight, as near as he could figure it, with light brown hair that was fine as mouse fur, and huge blue eyes and a slender face with a button nose. He wore gray and brown patched clothing, tunic, trews, and a belt made of leather that he'd scavenged off a dead pirate. The other Lost Boys had killed him, but hadn't bothered to take the pirate's belt, so Mouse had nipped in and done so . . . and luckily none of his bigger companions had wanted it. Mouse wore black felt boots, he had made them of scraps of material filched from Hook's ship, they helped him walk silently through the jungle, a must when you were small, weak, and helpless . . . just like the mouse he was named for.

Mouse hadn't earned a "use name" yet, as Peter put it . . . a name like Felix, which meant "lucky", or Sharp Tooth, or Filch, because he could steal you blind without you ever knowing. Mouse was named for his shy quiet demeanor, and his weak body, which couldn't keep up with the other boys' rough games due to a wheezing problem in his lungs. Any kind of prolonged exercise made him gasp for air and on occasion turn somewhat blue as he struggled to breathe. No one knew why he was like that, but it was one more reason he wasn't worthy to be a Lost Boy, and he was only here still because Pan didn't even think him worthy to sacrifice on Skull Rock.

Instead he was a general "dogsbody", or slave. He did all the chores no one else wished to around camp, like lighting the fire in the morning, cooking the porridge or stew, refilling the water barrels, digging the latrine trenches and filling them, and getting whatever the others required for them.

One of them whistled and Mouse would come—"Like a good dog!" Peter would joke, and Mouse would just nod, hanging his head. He knew he should have passed the stage of being ashamed at their jokes and such, but they still pricked him and hurt him. Not that anyone cared. He was the lowest of the low and nobody cared for him.

Because of that, he didn't have the same attitude others had towards their leader. To them Pan was a god—perfect, always right, always on the winning side. But to Mouse he was just another Lost Boy, though one who had managed to crawl to the top of the dungheap and crow about it . . . as well as enslaving fairies to give him pixie dust. He'd long ago stopped believing in Pan's mystique.

After he filled all the rain barrels, Mouse went to stir the day's porridge, which he made with handfuls of oats (scavenged again from the pirates), some dried fruit, and some sugar syrup gathered from the sugar cane plants that grew on the north side of Neverland.

None of the Lost Boys ever bothered to ask where or how Mouse got the syrup from the plants, and Mouse knew better than to tell them. He had a secret friend, one that no other Lost Boy would ever know about. Her name was Tiger Lily, and she was a dryad . . . one of Pan's greatest enemies.

She had helped him once when he'd become tangled in a net trap one of his "brothers" had set, and had almost strangled. But the dryad had found him, freed him, and given him some herbs to help with his terrible wheezing.

When he'd asked her why, she'd said, "You're not like the others. Therefore, I shall help you when you need it. But you must promise to never tell about me."

Mouse had promised and from then on, he met Tiger Lily on occasion. It made his lonely bleak existence a little more bearable.

He had just finished stirring the porridge, the others were still abed, having stayed up late playing some crazy game again, and had taken a small broom of strong sturdy plant fibers and swept the campsite with it when he heard the soft sound of a whippoorwill in the trees.

His ears perked and he laid the broom down and ran into the trees on the east side of the encampment, light footed as thistledown on the breeze.

He whistled a response, a soft three-note cry of a warbler.

Tiger Lily's face appeared among the thick jungle vines. "Psst! Mouse!"

"Hey!" the little boy's serious face suddenly blossomed into a great big smile as he saw his best friend. "Whatcha doin', Tiger Lily?"

"Looking for you, little sprout," she replied, giving him her own nickname.

"You found me," he answered, as he always did.

"I have a question for you. Has Pan brought any new Lost Boys to camp recently?" the dryad asked.

Mouse nodded. "Yeah. But just one. He's the one Pan's been looking for. The boy on the picture." The boy's expression was suddenly grave. "And you know what that means."

"I know, sprout. Do you remember that one day I told you there would come a day you could aid me and mine? That you could be a hero like the ones in all the stories I've told you?"

Mouse nodded eagerly. "I remember."

"That day has come."

"I'm ready, Tiger Lily! What do I have to do?"

"I need you to deliver a message to the boy called Henry . . . the boy in the picture," Tiger Lily said softly.

"I can do it!"

The dryad caressed his face gently. "Child, what I ask of you is dangerous . . . if you're discovered . . . your brothers will not treat you kindly . . ."

"They're _not_ my brothers!" he declared fiercely. "They hate me! They think I'm useless!" His small fists clenched. "_You're_ the only who's ever cared about me. I'll help you, Tiger Lily! And I'll help this new boy Henry. Because it's time . . . time for Pan to get lost and never come back!"

The boy's blue eyes blazed with anger and pain, a lifetime of such emotions boiled up in the child, and he whispered, "I'll do it, Tiger Lily! They won't catch me. Because they won't even see me. Nobody sees the servant that cleans their room . . . or the mouse that hides under their chair."

"All right, sprout. I'll bring you the message," the dryad said, and then she hugged the child.

Mouse hugged her back. "I'll be here, Tiger Lily." He waved as the dryad disappeared into the jungle again.

Then he settled down on a thick vine to wait. He had plenty of time before the other lazy louts stirred and woke. And at last he could be a hero, like he had always dreamed.

**Page~*~*~*~*~*~Break**

There was a rustling in the thick undergrowth, and Tiger Lily appeared again, along with a unfamiliar sight . . . a grown man in leathers and war paint. Mouse stiffened at first, then relaxed when Tiger Lily smiled at him. "Mouse, this is Rumple. He has the message for you to give to Henry."

The man knelt and held out a square of paper. "Would you be able to give this to my grandson?"

Mouse nodded quickly, and he came over and took the message, making it disappear into his tunic pocket. "I can, Master Rumple."

"Just Rumple, child. Mouse . . . that's not your real name, is it?" he asked softly.

"Uh . . . it's what they've always called me here," Mouse answered diffidently. "I . . . don't remember if I had a different name once. I'm just Mouse. 'Cause I'm small and weak and nothing special."

"Small you may be, boy, but the smallest things can bring down the largest beings in the world," Rumple told the youngster. The boy reminded him achingly of himself and he found himself doing something he hadn't done since Bae had fallen through the portal . . . he actually reached out to someone not of his family . . . and he beckoned the boy to come close while he told him the story of a little bee and a very large giant, and how the tiny bee defeated the giant with a single sting, because the giant was allergic to bees. "So, you see . . . even the smallest creature can be deadly. And you, Mouse, can be a thorn in Pan's side. A very nasty thorn, that hurts him when he least expects it."

Mouse smiled then. "I'll give Henry the message, Rumple."

"Good lad. And if you happen to get in trouble . . . call my name three times."

"Three times. Because three's a magic number."

"That's right. So . . . you say Rumplestiltskin three times and I'll come for you."

"Are you magic too? Like Tiger Lily?"

"I'm a sorcerer, yes."

Mouse's eyes shone. "Awesome! Now I've got a sorcerer for a friend too!"

Rumple found himself smiling back at the boy. "Yes, you do, lad. Now you'd better go back before you're missed. If you have a return message for me, go into the trees here and whistle like this." He made the sound of a mourning dove.

Mouse mimicked him perfectly.

"That's it. Now off with you, and good luck," Rumple said, and then he tousled the boy's hair, much as he'd done to Bae long ago.

The boy gave him a sweet smile, then slipped silently as a ghost back through the trees.

"Will he be all right?" Rumple asked Tiger Lily.

"I think so. He's a resourceful little sprout." Then she took Rumple's arm and led him back through the greenwood tunnel.

**Page~*~*~*~*~Break**

Henry felt a gentle tap on his arm as he sat on the log, watching the other Lost Boys frolic and gobble down the porridge for breakfast. He wasn't feeling very hungry, so his own bowl remained untouched beside him.

He turned to look at the small boy at his elbow. "Hi. What's up?"

Mouse looked puzzled. "The sky, of course."

Henry shook his head. "No . . . what's up's an expression where I come from. Like . . . how are you?"

"Fine for now. Aren't you going to eat that?" Mouse pointed at the porridge.

"I'm not very hungry. You can eat it if you want."

"Oh no. I couldn't," Mouse shook his head rapidly. "I'm not allowed. If . . . if Peter knew . . . he'd let Felix tie me to the whipping post and whip me with the cat again."

"The cat?"

"Cat-o-nine-tails," Mouse elaborated. "It's . . . you know . . . a whip."

Henry gaped at him. "You . . . he . . . beat you?"

"Sometimes. It's what's good for a slave," Mouse recited.

"You're not a slave." Henry cried angrily.

"Sure I am. I'm their slave. Just Mouse. And that means they can do what they want to me . . . so long as they don't kill me. Pan don't want that."

"That's . . . terrible!"

Mouse shrugged. "That's Neverland." He lowered his voice even further. "Henry . . . do you know someone named Rumple?"

Henry's eyes widened. "Rumplestiltskin? He's my . . . my grandpa. Why?"

"Because he gave me something to give to you," Mouse replied. Then he knelt and said loudly, "Let me tie your shoe, Master Henry." As he pretended to do so, Mouse slipped the piece of paper into Henry's sock, then straightened.

Giving Henry a quick bow, he scurried away into the shadows, leaving Henry alone.

Henry took his bowl of porridge and ate slowly, hiding the piece of paper beneath his bowl and reading inbetween bites.

He couldn't believe what was written on the paper, but he knew that this was the real thing, since there was stuff in there that only his dad could have known. His _dad_. Who wasn't dead, but alive. And trying to rescue him. It was like a miracle. Hope bloomed again in his heart and the uncertainty and despair he'd been feeling vanished.

He read the letter through, then crumpled the paper and scraped a hole beneath the log and buried it. Then he finished his porridge at top speed.

He set his bowl down just as Pan came forward and said, "Good morning, Henry. How are you finding Neverland?"

"It's great. Full of surprises," Henry answered, sounding happy. And the biggest surprise was yet to come.

**Page~*~*~*~*~Break**

_Storybrooke:_

Belle waved as Ariel jumped off the dock and into the water. As soon as the redhead's body touched the water, she shimmered and became a mermaid again. "Goodbye, Ariel! And good luck! Tell Rumple I'll see him again!"

"I will, Belle! And I'll return soon!" Ariel said, and prepared to dive.

Belle turned away, smiling to herself.

Suddenly a hand was clamped over her mouth.

Another hand was about her waist, and suddenly she found herself being picked up.

Angrily, she bit the hand holding her mouth shut.

With a yelp, the hand released her and Belle screamed, "Help! Help! I'm being kidnapped!"

"Shhh! Just shut up!" ordered another voice.

Belle kicked back with her right foot, catching her abductor in the shin.

"Oww!" yelped the man holding her.

"Let me go!" Belle snarled, fighting like a wildcat, using every dirty trick Rumple had taught her about freeing herself from an opponent, which he'd done after her father had hired Smee to kidnap her and drag her across the town line.

She twisted in her captor's grasp, pulled free, then spun and kicked him . . . _hard_ . . . in the groin.

He crumpled to the dock with a howl.

She turned, her hands crooked into claws, to attack the other man, reaching for his glasses.

But then a slender arm came about Glasses' neck, and a cuttlefish knife pressed slowly into his throat. "Don't move. Or I'll gut you like a mako shark with a bad attitude," hissed a musical voice.

"O-Okay! Just . . . please . . ." gulped the man. " . . . we wouldn't have hurt your friend."

"Then why were you kidnapping me?" Belle demanded. "For fun?"

"No . . . we just wanted . . . it's a long story . . ." Glasses said. Then he looked at his companion, still on the ground. "Michael, you okay?"

"No . . . not right now, John," whimpered the other man. "God, that woman kicks worse than a half-broke bronco."

"Sorry, but I was defending myself," Belle retorted. "Now who are you and what do you want? I don't recognize you."

"I'm John Darling, and that's my brother Michael . . ."

**Page~*~*~*~*~Break**

_Neverland:_

Ariel swam up to the edge of the beach and transformed back into human form. Her hand held the bag with Pandora's Box in it. She splashed out of the surf and onto the beach where Rumple and Bae waited. "Rumple! I've kept my end of the deal."

Rumple took the bag and removed the box from it. "Thank you, Ariel."

"I've got a message for you too. Belle says to tell you that she'll see you again. And there's two people in Storybrooke—a prophet and an angel—who know you, Bae darling," Ariel said, reciting the messages she'd been given.

"They—what?" Bae blinked, then he repeated the sentence Ariel had said to himself. Suddenly his eyes widened. "You saw _them?_ Ariel, did they say anything else?"

"The angel said they were looking for a particular bird. You'd know her when you saw her, she has distinct golden plumage . . . and is called a—"

"Wendy-bird!" Bae exclaimed.

Ariel nodded. "Pan has her and she needs you to let her out of her cage."

"If I can, I will. And thanks!" Bae smiled at Ariel.

"You're welcome," Ariel beamed. "And now . . . I'm going back to Storybrooke. To find Eric and my own happy ending. Good luck!" She waved before turning and diving back into the sea.

"Papa, I need to tell you something," Bae began.

"Hush, Bae! Remember where we are," Rumple reminded him.

Clutching the box tightly, they made their way off the beach to where Tiger Lily waited in the jungle.

**Page~*~*~*~*~Break**

_The dreamscape:_

_Belle greeted Rumple in their bedroom this time, dressed in a two piece red negligee that left very little to his imagination. Next to their king-sized bed was a white bassinet with pink bows on it._

_Rumple paused beside the bed, dressed in his leather pants and long silk shirt, but instead of his usual boots he had on his Armani shoes. "What's this, dearie?"_

_"That is what I hope you'll be giving me when you get back home, Rumple," she answered, giving him a sultry smile. _

_"You want . . . a baby?"_

_"Very much. As much as I want to wear your ring on my finger," she answered, running her tongue about her Cupid's bow lips._

_"Your wish is my command, dearie," he grinned. He gave the bassinet a proprietary pat. "I'll fill you up soon enough, I promise."_

_"Rumple, did you get the box from Ariel?"_

_"Yes, I did. And she's on her way back to Storybrooke. Now I can trap Pan . . . once you entice his shadow into the dreamscape."_

_"I'll begin doing that tomorrow night," Belle promised. "But for now . . . tonight is ours." She leaned forward and eyed Rumple up and down. "You remind me of . . . the big bad wolf . . ."_

_"Really, dearie?" he crooned, kneeling half on the bed. He perused her leisurely, making love to her with his eyes, a single glance scorching her._

_"My . . . Rumple, what big eyes you have!"_

_"All the better to see you, dearie!" He gave another of those glances that made her feel positively naked._

_She shivered deliciously, and beckoned him onto the bed with a finger. "My, what big hands you have, Rumple!"_

_"All the better to hold you with, dearie."_

_And he took her and clasped her to him, running his fingers all over her, sending shockwaves through her._

_"My, what big teeth you have, Rumple!" she purred._

_"All the better to nibble you with, dearie!" and then he proceeded to do just that, giving her tiny love nips that almost drove her insane._

_"Oh! Rumple, what big lips you have!" she groaned._

_"All the better to kiss you with, dearie."_

_Then he covered her with kisses, until she writhed beneath him._

_Finally, gasping, she murmured, "Rumple, what a big staff you have!"_

_He grinned wickedly and said into her ear, "All the better to make love to you, dearie!"_

_Then he proceeded to do just that, being both gentle and passionate by turns, as the beauty in red tamed the big bad wolf beast, for now and forevermore._

**Page~*~*~*~*~Break**

_Neverland:_

Beneath his woven green blanket, Rumplestiltskin smiled delightedly, frolicking happily in his dreams with his Belle.

Next to him, Baelfire also smiled in his sleep, as he was reunited with Henry and Emma at last.

Further away, in the encampment of Lost Boys, Henry dreamed of escaping Neverland with his dad and grandfather.

And curled up in the dirt under a hollow tree, the boy named Mouse smiled as he dreamed of running far away from here . . . and finding a family who loved him.

_Storybrooke:_

In her solitary bed, Belle curled up in her terry pajamas, with Rumple's shirt next to her on the pillow, and indulged herself in one last wicked fantasy before the next evening came . . . and she would use the Booke of Dreams to trap a wicked little boy who had never grown up . . . and who sought to sacrifice other boys to maintain his power . . . except this time he was going to find that boys weren't the only ones who could play games . . . and Belle played for keeps.

**A/N: Hope you're enjoying this AU version of Belle, Rumple, Bae, and Neverland! Please review and let me know how you like it!**


	7. Luring Pan

**7**

**Luring Pan**

_Storybrooke:_

Belle knew she had to be convincing in her role when she re-entered the dreamscape that night in order to begin luring Pan inside it. The leader of the Lost Boys had to be completely gulled into falling for her trap, and in order to do so she needed to invent a persona she could portray while inside the dreamscape.

She set about doing so by reading up on how to bake different things and some famous chefs and bakers, how they did what they did, the way they felt about it, and bit by bit she formed a character she could play.

She also read up on the motivations of someone like Peter, trying to formulate how best to beat him at his own game. She found that people like Pan were selfish and focused totally on themselves and what best benefited them. If she could provide a big enough temptation, Pan would be drawn into her world, and so too would his shadow. Power was what he craved, what he had spent several lifetimes trying to achieve, and being totally cold and ruthless in his acquiring of it.

She suspected that the shadow was his manifestation of that power, a phantom of all the lives he had stolen, sucked dry of all energy and hope, leaving behind an empty shell. And power was drawn to power.

Knowing that, she set up an object that would prove irresistible to a thing that craved immortality . . . borrowed from ancient mythology . . . she wrote into her dream an apple of immortality, the same kind of apple that Hera guarded in Greek mythology with her servant Argo of the Hundred Eyes and also Idun in Norse myth. It was said that those who ate of it would become like unto a god, and never fear death again, and also have powers such as they did.

Then she set the stage for an elaborate hoax . . . one that would end hopefully with a shadow trapped, and the boy who never grew up forced to face at last the things he had done . . . and those whom he had hurt . . . and pay the price for his wrongdoing at last.

_Neverland:_

Mouse stepped into the jungle bordering the camp of the Lost Boys, a small piece of paper wrapped around a hair clutched in his palm. He gave a soft trilling call, that of the mourning dove, then melted into the vegetation that grew on the side of the path. He was nearly invisible, which was how he preferred it, knowing that Tiger Lily could find him wherever he hid in the undergrowth, since she was a dryad, and plants held no mystery for her.

He waited for several long minutes, cultivating a patience learned long before when he had to wait for a small ground squirrel or other rodent to show itself so he could snatch it up and wring its neck to eat. Because in the camp, he ate when all others had done so, and sometimes there was nothing left but scraps. If he didn't learn how to forage for certain roots and berries, nuts and fruits, as well as small game, he would have starved to death long ago.

And though he was small and weak, he discovered that he wasn't ready to give in, to give up, to let his tormentors win . . . or at least not win any more than they had to. He was quick and clever, he remembered where certain trees were, like breadfruit, pawpaw, coconut, and hazelnut. He recalled thickets of juicy berries and when he had met Tiger Lily, she had shown him other places to find food, so despite the misery of his life as a Lost Boy, he remained healthy . . . except when they hurt him in their little games.

He eyed the thick undergrowth, thinking idly how this place could be so beautiful in one aspect . . . and so rotten in another. It was both a paradise and a hell . . . sometimes more one than another. He admired the way the sunlight fell upon the leaves, creating pretty patterns, and the way the breeze rustled the leaves and vines.

He nearly dozed, filled with the peace of the morning, until the leaves swirled and shaped themselves into a tunnel and Tiger Lily emerged from it, followed by Rumple.

The dryad's keen eyes found the boy curled in the hollow of the elephant fern and warbled softly, so Mouse woke from his half-doze and poked his head out warily.

"You're here!" he exclaimed, his blue eyes glowing happily.

"You called, and so we came," Tiger Lily said simply.

"Do you have a message for me, Mouse?" asked Rumple quietly.

The boy nodded and handed him the piece of paper. "Henry gave me this to give to you, Rumple."

"Thank you, lad. You've done well."

It was simple thing to say, but that simple thing made Mouse feel, for the first time, proud of himself, as if he were useful and needed. It was a very new feeling, and it both frightened and excited him. He didn't quite know what to say, so he contented himself with smiling shyly at the sorcerer . . . the first adult whom he had ever known . . . and the only one save for Tiger Lily who had ever praised him and thought him worthy of anything.

Then he ducked his head and looked at the ground, muttering, "It wasn't much. I was just a messenger."

"But it was, Mouse," Rumple told him. "You gave Henry hope when he had none, and a way for me to defeat Pan and rescue my grandson. That . . . to me, is a very big thing."

"It is?" he cautiously peered up at the older man with one blue eye through the messy fringe of his brown hair.

"Yes. You'll find that the big things in life are often made up of small things strung together," Rumple said. "And sometimes, one small thing can lead to a much greater thing occurring. Remember the story I told you of the bee and the giant?"

Mouse nodded. "Yessir."

"Think about it, lad. Then perhaps you'll see what you've done is actually a great thing from a small act," Rumple explained. For some unknown reason he wished to give this child some much needed self-confidence, to help him the way he wished someone would have himself at that age.

Mouse savored the feeling Rumple's words engendered in him . . . and the fact that something big could come of his small act . . . something important, from the one who was counted least of all. "Now you can rescue Henry, right?"

"Yes," Rumple said. "And that's what matters."

"I'm glad. He shouldn't be here. Neverland's no place for someone like him . . . someone with a family who cares for him," Mouse said. "He ought to go home."

"And he will," Rumple assured him. "As well as the rest of you who have been trapped here under Pan's whim. Including you."

"I have no home," Mouse said quickly. "Or a family. I never have."

"Not even . . . before you came here?"

"No. I was . . . somewhere with a bunch of other boys . . . I can't really remember it well now, it's fuzzy . . . but I do know it wasn't like what you'd call a real home . . . with people who cared about you . . . and it doesn't matter anyway, since by now they're probably dead or have forgotten we ever existed."

"Do you know how long you've been here, Mouse?"

"A long time. I wasn't one of the first ones, but . . . I've been here longer than a lot of the others," the boy said. "Time's not the same here, we all know that. Pan keeps it so."

"True. But when we get back to Storybrooke—that's the name of the town where I come from—you can all find new homes and families," Rumple told him.

Mouse just shook his head. "They can. But not me."

"Why?" asked Tiger Lily.

"Because nobody would want a boy like me," Mouse replied.

"That's not true!" Tiger Lily objected.

"Of course it is. Otherwise I wouldn't be a slave."

"Did Pan tell you that?" Rumple demanded, a shade angrily.

"He didn't need to, sir. I've always known it," Mouse shrugged. Then he said quietly, "I'd best get back before I'm missed. If . . . if you need to send another message . . . whistle." He waved once, then darted back into the undergrowth, vanishing like the mouse he was named for.

Rumple followed Tiger Lily back through the tunnel, his hand clutching the missive from Henry with his hair inside it. "That boy is desperate for a family to want him."

"Yes," the dryad said. "He needs a family, Rumple. But even more than that . . . he needs a father."

Rumple did not reply, he was too intent upon thinking about the spell he would need to create to make the doppelganger, and yet a part of him agreed with the dryad. Perhaps when they returned to Storybrooke, he could find someone who would be willing to take in the sensitive child, whom this harsh existence might have beaten but not broken.

_The Lost Boys camp:_

Pan came for Henry around midday, after the boys had stopped playing army and were napping in the jungle's heat. All except for Mouse, who was cleaning up the mess the others had made and keeping the camp tidy, or at least as tidy as it could be with a large group of boys in it.

Henry was still sitting on the log, wondering how long it would be before his dad and Mr. Gold came for him. He looked up as Pan approached.

"Henry! Come with me, I want to show you something," Peter said, sounding like a boy going to reveal a great secret to a chosen friend.

Henry followed, somewhat warily, on Pan's heels.

Pan led him down a twisty path and to a stretch of beach. He pointed towards a smudge of black in the center of the rushing waves and said, "Do you see that over there?"

Henry squinted against the sun shimmering off the aqua water and said, "Yeah. What is it?"

"Skull Rock. It's where the magic of Neverland originated," Pan lied glibly. "It's where I go to renew myself. But . . . something's happening on Neverland, Henry. The magic . . . is dying."

"How come?"

"Because people no longer believe. Children have lost their belief . . . and that's why I need you, Henry. You have a true heart . . . the heart of the truest believer. I need you to help me bring magic back."

"You do?" Henry managed to say. In the message given to him, Bae had said not to trust anything Pan said, that he lied as easily as breathing. But at the same time, Henry was curious.

"Yes. You can help me because you believe in the magic and what it can do," Peter said eagerly. "You can help me save magic, Henry . . . keep Neverland a place of peace and a refuge for those who live here. For once . . . _you_ can beyour own hero and not just read about it."

Had Henry not been warned by Baelfire, he might have fallen for Pan's clever ruse . . . might have been drawn into the other's webentangled there. But his dad had warned him . . . and so Henry knew better than to be fooled.

But he knew he had to act like he was going along with Pan, so he said, "I can? That's so awesome! What do I have to do?"

"Come with me to Skull Rock tomorrow," Pan said swiftly. "Then I'll show you what you need to do to save magic."

"What time?"

"After dinner, I suppose," Pan said. "But for now . . . it's hot and I'm tired . . . so let's sleep."

Henry agreed, and followed Pan back to their camp, and pretended to go up in one of the tree houses to sleep . . . but when he'd waited a bit, he crept down and found Mouse, now peeling some orange roots into a large cauldron with a sharp flaked obsidian knife. "Psst! Mouse!"

Mouse jerked his head up. "Yes, Master Henry?"

"I need you to take a message to my grandpa," he hissed, coming up and whispering practically in Mouse's ear. "Tell him whatever he's going to do, better do it quick, because Pan wants me to come with him to Skull Rock tomorrow night."

Mouse swallowed hard. "He said so?"

"Yeah."

The other boy bit his lip hard. He knew that those boys who went to Skull Rock were never seen again. "Okay. I'll tell him."

Henry gave him a grateful smile . . . then he walked back up to the tree house, leaving Mouse alone.

Mouse finished his task of peeling roots for tonight's soup pot, then he carefully tucked his knife away and slipped back into the undergrowth.

A few moments later, the sound of a mourning dove was heard again in the humid air.

**Page~*~*~*~*~Break**

Rumplestiltskin was busy forming the construct that would take Henry's place, using the hair his grandson had given him as a base for the doppelganger, since the essence of the person being mimicked was essential for the spell to function properly. As he shaped the doppelganger using wet sand and dirt, a small amount of his own saliva, and crumbled leaves, Tiger Lily appeared at the edge of the clearing he'd chosen to work in.

The dryad waited until he'd done molding the "clay" and shaping it with his magic, melding all the separate parts into a unified whole, until it looked and spoke and would act similar to Henry. Rumple knew it was a good facsimile, and hoped Pan would be fooled long enough to spirit Henry away.

"Rumple," Tiger Lily called when it appeared the sorcerer was finished.

He looked at her. "What is it?"

"Mouse called while you were working. He had another message for you from your grandson." The dryad told him what Henry had said.

Rumple frowned. "Then we'll have to move sooner than I thought. I just hope Belle can lure Pan into the dreamscape sooner rather than later."

"Do you trust her?"

"With my life. And more, with my heart."

"Then don't worry. Just be prepared."

"I will," said Rumple, and then he went to tell Bae what he'd learned.

**Page~*~*~*~*~Break**

_The dreamscape:_

_Peter was dreaming again, an old dream of when he was still a boy, before he'd acquired the power of the shadows and came to Neverland. In it he recalled the baker who used to look after him before he became a con artist. The sweet smell of honey buns and cinnamon rolls permeated the air and he followed his nose into a road which led through the same sort of village he'd grown up in._

_The road was packed dirt, with little cottages along the way of whitewash and thatch, with small colored shutters, window boxes of flowers, doors painted to match the shutters, and little cobblestone walks. Typical village dwellings, with here and there a larger building, but he ignored them and tracked the delectable smell to a small stone building with a sign out front that read **Ina's Fresh Baked Goods** and beneath it was a picture of bread, rolls, and sticky buns._

_Beneath a small awning was a trestle with a cloth spread out, and on it were several cakes, buns, and pies, some of them fresh from the oven and steaming._

_Peter licked his lips and prepared to snatch one of them, when a matron with dark hair wearing a flour-covered apron over her blue work dress emerged from the bakery, her eyes the color of currants in her round face. "Hello, mistress."_

_"Hello, boy. Have you come to sample some of my wares?" she queried, giving him a knowing smile._

_He arched an eyebrow. "Maybe. You giving them away?"_

_"I need . . . a taste tester," Ina replied, brushing her hands off on her apron. "You look like a good candidate." She pointed to the array of goods on the trestle. "Try one or two."_

_"Gladly," Pan said, and scooped up a bun and a flaky pastry crust with some apples inside it. He bit into the treats and sighed in bliss._

_"Well? How is it?"_

_"It's gmmgm . . ." he muttered around a mouthful of pastry. When he swallowed, he answered, "It's as good as the ones the old lady used to make where I used to live."_

_"Oh? Where was that?"_

_"Somewhere a long way from here," he answered, eyeing some more treats. _

_"This baker . . . was she your mama?" Ina asked._

_"No. Just a woman who watched me when I was about six or seven. She always had something for me to eat when I came in from playing. Good things too, like this."_

_"What happened to her?"_

_"She died of something. Don't really know what."_

_"How sad! You must have missed her a lot," Ina said sympathetically._

_Peter shrugged. "I missed her baking more. She tried to tell me what to do . . . and that's not allowed."_

_"It's not?"_

_"No. No one tells me what to do. Not since I came to Neverland and learned how to use shadows to take what I wanted. A shadow can bring me whatever I desire . . ."_

_"It can? But a shadow is just a shape made when light shines on something."_

_"Not always. Sometimes a shadow is more . . . especially here, where dreams can be made in flesh if you believe," Peter said smugly. "And those who can control the shadow souls . . . can rule the realms."_

_"Do you? But you're a boy."_

_"That's because I have eternal youth . . . in a manner of speaking. For now."_

_"Is it like a spell?"_

_"No. It's because my shadow absorbs the essence of those I tear them from. But what do you care? You're just a village baker."_

_"I'm just . . . curious," Ina said. "Would you like some pie? I'm told it's very good."_

_She handed him a pie server and he stuck it into a pie without even bothering to cut a slice, simply scooping it up and shoving it in his mouth, unmindful of the crumbs he sprayed all over the trestle and the juice running down his chin to stain his green tunic._

_He gobbled up the berry and apple pie like he hadn't seen food in a week of Sundays, greedily chomping it down, barely pausing to chew._

_Ina turned away to grab another one from the window where it was cooling, hiding a grimace of disgust. After putting down another pie, she handed him a large napkin. _

_He took it, scrubbed his face, and then blew his nose and put it back on the table. "I'm thirsty. Get me something to drink."_

_Ina nodded and fetched a cold glass of buttermilk in a tin cup._

_Pan took it, drank it down noisily, then said, "You aren't bad, mistress. Can you bake bread too?"_

_"Of course. I can bake anything. All of my goods are baked fresh and with a secret ingredient."_

_"What's that?"_

_"Oh . . . something special," she said mysteriously. "Something that some people would . . . do anything for."_

_"Like what?" he asked suspiciously._

_"Something you already have, it seems," she replied mysteriously._

_"Tell me!" he demanded, his voice hard and sharp, like a spoiled child determined to get his own way._

_"Why? Like I said, you already have it."_

_"What do I have?"_

_"Eternal youth and power."_

_"So? You can always use more," he snapped arrogantly. "How do you do it?"_

_"Do what?"_

_"Bake eternal youth?"_

_"Oh, it's easy. If you have the right ingredients," she answered blithely. _

_"Like what?"_

_"Oh, I couldn't say. It's a secret."_

_"A secret I want to know. Tell me!"_

_"No. I'm afraid I can't. I'm sorry," she said regretfully. _

_"You're a wretched old hag!" he spat. Then he kicked over the trestle, spilling the cakes and pies onto the ground. He stomped them into the dirt before stalking away, leaving the baker staring after him in dismay._

_But he didn't go far. He watched as Ina swept up the crushed items and went back inside . . . then he peeked into the window she'd left unshuttered. He saw her roll out some more pie crust and then turn and get some apple slices from a bowl. _

_She added them to the crust and sprinkled cinnamon on it. Then she went to a small cabinet and opened it. She took out something that glittered in the firelight and carefully shaved off some of it on top of the fruit. _

_Peter's eyes widened. It was a golden apple. And he could sense it was filled to the brim with magic._

_He heard her muttering softly, "Some apple slices, some cinnamon, and a pinch of Hera's apples of immortality to make just the right flavor."_

_Then she placed the apple back inside the cabinet and shut the door._

_Peter licked his lips and thought about how much he wanted that apple. Somehow he had to get it._

_He summoned his shadow . . . but before he could send it out, he found himself flung out of the village as he woke up to the Lost Boys calling him . . ._

**Page~*~*~*~Break**

_Storybrooke:_

Belle woke up with the Booke of Dreams fallen across her nose. She carefully removed the magical journal from her face and sat up. She had primed the trap and he had come to investigate it, called there by the Booke of Dreams' magic, which would summon whomever the writer of the dreams wished.

Pan's own greed and lust for power had done the rest.

Now all that remained was to tell Rumple of her success.

She began to scribble rapidly.

**Page~*~*~*~Break**

_Neverland:_

After his creation of the doppelganger, Rumple was tired, and decided to take a rest, curling up to sleep in the hammock strung in a banyan tree in Tiger Lily's grove.

In his sleep, he smiled, as Belle came to him, telling him what had transpired.

_The dreamscape:_

_"And you're certain it worked?" Rumple asked as he clasped his beloved to him._

_"Yes. He was quite upset when I didn't immediately give him the ingredient. He knocked over my trestle and spilled all of my pies and cakes and stuff on the ground and stepped on them."_

_Rumple scowled. "Just like a spoiled child who doesn't get his way."_

_"Well . . . he is like a child, Rumple. But one who has magic to back up his evil desires. A powerful child who seeks to dominate everyone who doesn't do as he says," Belle replied. _

_"He wants to sacrifice Henry on Skull Rock," Rumple said tightly. "And he's moving quicker than I thought."_

_"But you can get Henry out of there?"_

_"Yes. I just needed to let you know you might have to step up your timetable, love."_

_"I can do that," she assured him. _

_"Good. Be ready to do so tomorrow, around noon. Once you've trapped his shadow, call me and tell me. I'll make the swap then and have Bae follow him to Skull Rock to trap his body."_

_"But I want you to meet him in the dreamscape as well. So you can get some of your own back," she told him._

_"Do that when you've lured him back." He began to kiss her hungrily._

_She allowed him to take the lead this time, letting him remove her clothing with swift impatience, then take her at his leisure, as a reward for managing the dreamscape so well. _

_He seduced her with all of his considerable expertise, making her burn and ache and tremble with passion, his hands and lips so persuasive that she became putty in his grasp. _

_When they finally came together, Belle swore the dreamscape shuddered, rocked as she was by the utter passion and love he gave to her and she gave him in return. _

**Page~*~*~*~Break**

_Neverland:_

Rumple woke to his stomach growling hungrily and rubbed the sleep from his eyes and smiled. Now he just needed Mouse to tell him the layout of the camp before he went in to make the switch that night. But first he would get something to eat, as he always worked better on a full stomach.

In another part of Neverland, a different group of heroes and villains worked together to free a young girl from a cage in a remote part of the island and then follow a map to the Lost Boy's camp to free Henry.


	8. Saving Henry

**8**

**Saving Henry**

_Storybrooke_

_Gold's pawnshop:_

Belle carefully unlocked the door of her beloved's shop and entered it, using the emergency key he'd given to her before he'd left. Then she locked up behind her, having no wish for anyone to see her inside. She went to a certain cabinet and put her hand over it, letting the magical wood it was made from "recognize" her and then a door clicked and swung open, revealing to her its contents, several drafts of potions and elixirs in shimmering crystal and glass vials.

Belle bent and read the labels on them, all written in Rumple's elegant graceful hand, then finding what she needed, removed a crystal vial with a shimmering blue potion from its niche. She shut the cabinet and the door shimmered and vanished again, until the next time its owner or one its owner had authorized opened it again.

Clutching the vial of potion to her, Belle moved next to the safe behind a certain picture, quickly punching in the digital overrides and then undoing the combinations of the three locks upon the door. Once it was open, she removed the chipped cup from it and set it on the table.

Then she poured the potion into the cup, spun it around three times clockwise, and picked it up and drank from it.

She felt the powerful cordial flow through her and knew it would give her the magical boost she needed to stay within the realm of dreams until she had trapped Pan's shadow—and then Pan—and given Rumple his chance to even the score between them. The potion's effects, she knew, would last for twenty-four hours, which would hopefully be what she needed to complete her mission.

She left the shop, feeling the magical essence flow through her like an electrical current. After locking up, she skipped back to the library and rearranged and dusted like a dervish, unable to settle down in one place.

_Damn, but this potion makes me feel like I have ADHD! All my muscles and nerve endings are tingling. God, Rumple! I wish you were here right now, because I think I could probably give you the best damn makeout session in history right now, I'm so wired. _

After thirty minutes she went upstairs to her apartment and fixed herself a large Italian hoagie and devoured it, then some chips, and a small Hostess cupcake and drank half a bottle of diet ginger ale.

Finally, she felt herself calm down somewhat, and then she took the Booke of Dreams and wrote in it, carefully detailing exactly what she wished to happen, and using the apple of immortality to summon Pan's shadow back into the dreamscape.

By then she was feeling pleasantly weary, drank some hot cocoa, and then got into her cozy pajamas and curled up in bed, hugging Rumple's pillow to her. Her hands caressed the silky pillowcase and then clutched the Booke to her as she drifted off . . . back into the dreamscape once again . . . this time to trap a shadow . . . and end this conflict for good and all . . .

**Page~*~*~*~*~Break**

_Neverland:_

Peter went to his thinking tree, a magical tree that he had long ago bound with his magic to serve him. It was a great moss covered behemoth, it had been on this island for time immemorial and he knew the dryads who inhabited the western side of Neverland would have cheerfully strung him up and flayed him for what he had done to the venerable old patriarch. But Pan had needed a place where he could go and be undisturbed by his cadre of Lost Boys, a place where he could brood and dream and plan his next move against the dryads, the pesky pirates led by that buffoon Hook, and now the group of fairy tale heroes who were trying to rescue Henry, coming through the Dark Jungle towards his camp.

Pan smirked. Those fools were playing right into his hands, following the rules of his little game, as all who entered Neverland must do . . . or else pay the consequences. There had only been a handful of times anyone had slipped his net, and one of them was back in his grasp, the poor little Wendy-bird, held hostage for her brothers' good behavior on the outside. The other was a boy named Baelfire, who had proved more resourceful and smart than he had given him credit for . . . and managed through sheer luck and cleverness to find a way off the island.

One boy in all the centuries he'd ruled had slipped his grasp. Pan wasn't about to let it happen again. Ever.

Tonight, he thought gleefully, he would bring Henry to Skull Rock, and there sacrifice the Heart of the Truest Believer and use its innate magic to give himself strength and power and infuse the island with it. Then he could put down the revolt of the blithering tree spirits and crush Hook and his band of cutthroats and show them all who really ruled the realms. Henry's heart would give him power to rival that of the Dark One . . . more power actually . . . power that he could use to find Storybrooke and enslave all the children living there, using their essence to make sure Neverland would be eternally safe, fueled by the belief of fairytale children who believed in magic.

But it would begin with the Heart of the Truest Believer.

He curled up in the branches of the huge tree, he didn't even know what species it was, only that it was magical, and closed his eyes, reflecting upon his great plan, which was finally coming to fruition.

As he did so, he smelled something . . . the tantalizing scent of freshly baked apples with cinnamon sugar . . . one of his most favorite treats, ever since he was a small boy . . .

He inhaled deeply of the rich aroma, his mouth watering . . . and then he recalled his dream . . . and the baker who had the apple of immortality . . . and he smirked even wider and summoned his shadow.

When the Shadow came to him, he said, "Shadow, I have a mission for you. I need you to go into the dreamscape and bring me back an apple—the apple of immortality the baker keeps concealed in her hut. Don't return without it, understand?"

Shadow nodded, and then it vanished in a twinkling.

Peter knew it had gone to do his bidding in the realm of dreams.

Then he hopped down from the tree and went to find Felix. It was time to prepare a little welcome for the fairytale heroes, who thought they could outwit him.

_Stupid grown-ups! They ought to know by now, Peter Pan never fails!_

**Page~*~*~*~*~*~Break**

_The dreamscape:_

_The baker known as Ina set out her wares again under the awning, hoping for some customers. She hummed and sang as she did so, acting as though she had not a care in the world._

_The tantalizing fragrance of freshly baked apple pies, turnovers, and apple cake filled the air, all of them laced with her secret ingredient._

_Ina waited, wiping her hands on her flour and butter stained apron, for someone to come by._

_Then, in a swirl of midnight and darkness, something did come by._

_Ina shielded her eyes and cried, "Who—what are you?"_

_"I am hunger and loneliness," responded the Shadow in a deep voice. "Let me taste your offerings, madam."_

_Ina frowned, though inside her soul shivered with delight. "I have only what you see before you, my cakes and pies."_

_The Shadow loomed closer, and took a pie and smelled it. Then it ate it all in one gulp. "Not bad. But still I am not sated. I need more."_

_"I cannot help you," Ina stated, spreading her hands out._

_"Can't you?" hissed the Shadow, suddenly turning from playful to demonic. "You have something I need. Where is it?"_

_"What?" she squeaked._

_"The apple. Hera's apple of immortality! Give it to me!"_

_"No. You may not have it. I have sworn the sacred trust . . ." she began, grabbing a long wooden paddle from beside the door and swinging it at the Shadow._

_The Shadow swooped and dove, avoiding her clumsy slow strikes._

_It shot around her and through an open window into the cottage, where it spied the gleaming golden apple in a bowl upon the table among several other apples, like an ordinary fruit._

_"Ah ha! I have it! Peter Pan never fails!" the Shadow crowed, then it swooped down to grab the apple._

_But even as it touched the forbidden fruit, the apple vanished, and manacles of glittering adamantine and magical fire clamped down upon the shadow, and drew it down into a coconut shell . . . and then Belle slammed the prison shut by putting the top half of the coconut back together . . . and the shadow was trapped._

_It wailed and howled and the coconut rocked back and forth, but it was unable to get free._

_"So much for you!" Belle said, then she went and called Rumple into the dreamscape._

_Fifteen minutes later he came, and she ran to him and whispered, "Rumple, I did it! Now you can make the switch and save Henry."_

_He picked her up and spun her around. "My brave Belle! I knew you could! Now it's time for me to finish what I've started and rescue my grandson. After that's done I'll give that blasted rascal what he deserves, then come home to you. Just wait and see!"_

_"Hurry, Rumple!" she urged, and then her mouth claimed his in a burst of fierce untamed passion that almost had him wishing he could spend the night in the dreamscape with her . . . but regretfully he ended the kiss and said, "Save it, dearie, for when I'm back home."_

_"Oh, I will, Rumple. And then I'll give you a night you'll remember for a thousand years!" she promised. Then she reluctantly let him go._

**Page~*~*~*~*~Break**

_Neverland:_

"Tiger Lily, it's time," Rumple said, climbing down from his hammock in the banyan tree.

The dryad appeared from her oak tree, her bare toes gripping the bark effortlessly, her long wild hair swirling about her. "You're ready then, Rumplestiltskin?"

"Yes. Bae, bring the doppelganger," the sorcerer ordered his son.

Bae went and picked up the doppelganger, which looked eerily like his son, so much so that if he didn't know better, Bae would have thought it really was Henry. It not only looked like him, but it felt like him, it even smelled like him. It was a perfect double. Bae just hoped it would be enough to fool Pan for awhile.

He picked up the doppelganger and put it over his shoulder, then followed Tiger Lily and his papa into the greenwood tunnel.

Operation Save Henry was finally underway.

**Page~*~*~*~*~Break**

_The Lost Boys camp:_

Henry felt he had been waiting forever for his grandfather and dad to come and rescue him. Minutes felt like hours, and hours felt like days. He knew that they were coming for him, but why did it have to take so _long_? He hoped nothing had happened to them. An instant later he chided himself for losing faith. _You've got to believe. Dad and Grandpa Rumple will come for you. Grandpa's the most powerful sorcerer in the realms, he'll come for you. He always keeps his word. And so does your dad._

He crossed his fingers and muttered a quick prayer.

Felix and the other Lost Boys seemed to be creating some kind of nets and things, and he wondered what new game they were playing. He looked over at Peter, and saw the leader of the Lost Boys was handing out some new arrows and spears. Henry rolled his eyes. War games, probably. It usually was.

His eyes found Mouse, the one Lost Boy who never seemed to join in such games, but was always cooking, cleaning, or doing some other chore. The other boy kept his head down and didn't look up unless one of the other addressed him. Henry knew why that was. If Mouse dared to do so, one of the other boys would punch him, shove him, and knock him down. It made Henry angry, because he hated to see anyone treated like that . . . like he was a slave.

Mouse tugged on the heavy black soup cauldron, dragging it down a well worn track to the stream where he began to scrub it out with sand mixed with soaproot, using a combination of rough fibrous shelf moss and elbow grease to get the inside shining clean, though the outside was a lost cause. As he rinsed the cauldron out with handfuls of water, he heard a familiar twittering bird, a nightingale.

He jerked up so fast he nearly fell into the stream, cupping his hands and calling back with the prearranged signal. Luckily, Mouse was a wonderful mimic, and could imitate the call of any and every bird upon the island.

He dragged the cauldron up onto the bank and splashed his way out of the stream and partway into the jungle, then he waited, leaning against a broad trunk, his patched clothing blending almost seamlessly into it.

He felt the stirring of magic, and then the greenwood tunnel opened and out of it came Tiger Lily, Rumple, and someone he'd never seen before, carrying . . . Henry over his shoulder!

Mouse gasped, making a quick ward sign against evil influences before he could think better of it.

"It's okay, lad," Rumple reassured him. "This is my son, Bae. With the doppelganger that's going to replace my grandson."

Mouse gulped. "Oh. I . . . for a minute I thought . . ." He ducked his head, embarrassed. "Never mind. I was just being stupid."

"No, you weren't. This thing looks so real, even _I_ was almost fooled by it," Bae said softly. "Now what, Papa?"

"Now we . . . need to swap this for Henry." Rumple answered. "Any way you can get my grandson over here, Mouse?"

"Sure I can. I'll tell him where to go, and then . . . then I'll create a distraction," Mouse replied.

"Mouse . . . be careful," Tiger Lily warned, giving him a smile.

Mouse just shrugged, knowing that wasn't an option, not now, and went and dragged the cauldron back along the path to the camp.

Bae frowned upon seeing that, muttering, "That thing's almost as big as he is. What the hell's up with that?"

"He's their slave, Bae," Rumple said tightly. "So he does all the things the rest of them don't want to, but need someone to do."

Bae swore. "Damn Peter Pan! I'll bet he thinks it's some kind of big joke, making that little kid do things like that."

"He's a rotten little bastard," Rumple agreed. "But tonight he'll get his, don't worry. You have the bag, right?"

"Yeah, it's here," Bae tapped his left pocket of his jacket.

Suddenly there came a rather loud thrashing through the underbrush and then Henry's head poked out, whispering, "Uh . . . hello? Mr. Gold? Dad?"

"Here we are, Henry," Gold said, stepping out from the protective screen of the tunnel.

Henry smiled and ran over to his grandfather, surprising them both by hugging the older man tightly.

Gold hugged him back after a moment, then turned to Bae and said, "Okay, put it down and I'll wake it."

Bae set the doppelganger down and Rumple hissed something in the language of magic. The doppelganger blinked, opened its eyes, then looked around. "Where . . . am I?" it asked in Henry's voice. "Master, command me."

Rumple stepped forward and said, "I command you to go into the camp of the Lost Boys and do whatever Pan wishes you to. You have the memories I've given you. Now go, swiftly!"

The doppelganger of Henry bowed and said, "I hear and obey, Master."

Just then there came the sounds of shouting and war whoops.

Bae looked at Rumple. "That must have been one hell of a distraction."

Rumple gazed after the doppelganger as it made its way through the trees towards the camp. The cries grew louder, as did Pan's voice, shouting, "Henry! Where are you?"

"Here," cried the doppelganger.

"I don't have time for this, Felix! Take care of this mess! Punish whoever's responsible," Pan snapped, scowling. Then he beckoned to Henry. "Follow me, quickly!"

"What's happening?" asked the double, sounding confused.

"Never mind. Just a game," Peter said dismissively. "Let's go, through here."

He led "Henry" down a small track to a boat moored near the lagoon where Skull Rock could be seen.

He was so intent upon his task that he didn't notice another figure following them. As he pushed off the boat and got in to row them to Skull Rock, the figure untied a raft made of green shoots, twigs, and other plant material, fastened together with dryad magic. Then the man hopped onto the raft and pointed it towards the boat. "Follow swift, follow true."

The raft shot out into the lagoon and followed like a lodestone, with Bae perched upon it, one hand caressing a small black velvet bag.

**Page~*~*~*~*~Break**

"Come on, Henry. We need to get away from here," Rumple urged his grandson, after the boy had hugged Bae goodbye. "Follow Tiger Lily into the tunnel." He gave his grandson a gentle shove.

Henry followed the beautiful woman into the tunnel, asking, "What kind of magic is this?"

Tiger Lily smiled. "Dryad magic, young Stiltskin. Follow me, and don't be afraid. Nothing shall harm you within the greenwood tunnel." She vanished inside the dimly lit tunnel formed of her magic and that of the plants she commanded.

Henry hesitated, then followed.

Rumple came last, glancing back once towards the camp. He didn't like what he heard, and whispered, "I'll come back for you, Mouse. Just let me get Henry to safety first."

Then he stepped all the way within the tunnel and it sealed itself shut and vanished.

**Page~*~*~*~*~Break**

In the camp of the Lost Boys, everything was chaos as the boys fought off an unexpected attack from six adults, the same group Pan had played his games with six days before, which included Snow White, her husband Charming, the former Evil Queen, Regina, Emma Swan, Captain Hook, and Tinkerbell. Further back in the trees, a teenage girl threw coconuts from a safe spot, the coconuts were actually filled with a small measure of gunpowder from the cannons on Hook's ship, and had tiny fuses attached to them, which Wendy lit with a lighter Emma had, then threw into the camp.

The coconut bombs exploded with a lot of noise, smoke, and some pieces of coconut hit some of the boys, making them yelp as it cut them, but not injuring them too badly.

As Hook, Charming, and Tinkerbell fought the Lost Boys who attacked them with dreamshade laced arrows and spears, Emma and Regina ran through the camp calling for Henry.

"I don't see him!" Regina yelled, looking about frantically.

"Me neither!" Emma cried.

She rounded the corner of a tree house, her sword drawn, and nearly ran over a small boy in nondescript clothes. "Hey, kid! Do you know where a boy a little older than you went? He's new here, name's Henry."

"You're asking one of _them_?" Regina snarled. "I know how to make him talk," she spat, her hand suddenly glowing with eldritch fire.

"No! You're not going to hurt him," Emma declared.

"Why? You let me do it to the other one," Regina pointed out.

"We were desperate then," Emma argued.

"What about now?"

Emma turned back to the boy, who seemed younger than most of the others here, but before she could say anything, the boy said, "If you're looking for Henry, he's gone."

"Gone where? With Pan?" Emma demanded.

"Uh . . well . . . sort of . . ." Mouse began.

"You filthy coward!" came another voice, and Felix sprang out of the tree house and slammed Mouse across the head with his spear butt. "Traitor!"

Mouse's eyes rolled up in the back of his head and he collapsed.

"Hey! What the hell are you doing?" Emma cried, outraged.

"Giving the traitor the treatment he deserves," Felix sneered, his icy blue eyes hard. "You'll never find your precious boy now, Emma. Because he's gone . . . gone with Pan to Skull Rock!"

Regina gasped. "Skull Rock?" she looked horrified.

"Yeah, that's right. Just before you came. And now it's too late to save him. Peter Pan never fails!" Felix tittered.

"Shit!" Regina swore. "Emma, tell those other bleeding hearts to stop fighting and start helping us look for a way to get to Skull Rock."

"What the hell's so important about Skull Rock?" Emma cried, looking like she was going to pound Felix into the dirt.

"It's a place of Power," Regina explained. "And there's one thing you use a place of Power for . . . sacrificial magic."

"You mean . . .?" Emma looked sick.

"Yes! Now come on, before we really are too late!" Regina cried.

"Guys! Fall back!" Emma shouted, starting back the way they had come.

"Forget these little parasites!" Regina yelled. "We've got to get Henry." She grabbed a plate that had been knocked to the ground and ran back through the knot of Lost Boys towards the shore of the lagoon, where she knew Skull Rock was due to the Lost Boy's heart she had taken out, since it contained some of his memories.

As she reached the shore, she pointed a hand at the plate and it morphed into a small coracle, complete with a paddle. "Emma! Get in!" she called to the blond woman, who was running towards her.

Emma leaped into the coracle just as Regina shoved it hard, then sprang in herself, grabbing the paddle and rowing towards the outcropping shaped like a skull in the middle of the lagoon.

"Hurry!" Emma panted, fear surging through her.

"You want to get out and swim?" Regina demanded testily. "I'm going as fast as I can!"

"Okay, sorry. I'm just . . . worried about Henry," Emma sighed.

"Well, so am I! Now sit still, dammit, before I throw you overboard and make you swim, Gilligan!" snapped the Evil Queen, as she paddled hard towards Skull Rock, not knowing that two other craft had come this way before them.

**Page~*~*~*~Break**

_Tiger Lily's grove:_

Henry, Rumple, and Tiger Lily emerged into the sanctuary of the dryad's grove, and the greenwood tunnel vanished after Rumple had stepped from it. Henry glanced around. "Where are we?"

"A safe place," Rumple replied. "This is Tiger Lily's grove, one of the few safe places on Neverland. Lost Boys can't come here."

"Nor can Pan's shadow," Tiger Lily added. "The magic I and my sisters wield keeps it away from here."

Henry looked relieved. "Then . . . once Pan's defeated, we can go home?"

"Yes, we can all go home," Rumple said softly. "Are you hungry, Henry?"

"Uh, a little. I . . . I didn't really want to eat their food much. I . . . was kind of afraid it was enchanted or something. You know, like in the stories with the fae. If you eat their food or drink, you have to stay with them for like a hundred years."

Rumple nodded. "That's not really the case here, but you were smart to think like that. Tiger Lily, what can we feed him?"

"This," Tiger Lily said, and spread her hands.

Immediately a blanket appeared and upon it were several different kinds of nuts, shelled, bowls of fruit and berries, some stalks of sugar cane, some flat cakes and honey and a salad with a sweet tangy dressing.

Henry's eyes widened. "Whoa! All that . . . for me?"

"I'm going to have some too," Rumple said. He sat down and helped himself to some of the food, putting it on wooden plates shaped out of pieces of bark and using a fork made from a twig to eat it. As he ate, he thought about going back for Mouse as soon as Henry was asleep in one of the hammocks with Tiger Lily watching him.

He knew quite well that since Mouse was considered a slave in the camp, he could also be considered a scapegoat . . . and no one knew better how Peter treated boys who were no longer useful to him.

**Page~*~*~*~*~*~Break**

Snow, Charming, Hook, Wendy, and Tink milled about uncertainly upon the lagoon shore, not knowing what to do now that Regina and Emma had gone, supposedly to chase after Pan and Henry.

"What do we do now?" asked Snow, biting her lip.

"We wait," Hook said, and sat down on a nearby log.

"I hope they get there in time," said Charming.

"All we can do is hope," Tink said. "Is anyone hurt?"

Everyone shook their heads negatively.

But then, as if in defiance of their answer, there came a loud howl, like that of a child in dreadful agony.

They all swiveled their heads around at the terrible sound.

It was coming from the Lost Boys camp.

**Page~*~*~*~*~Break**

The woven blackvine whip came down again, etching another line of fire across Mouse's thighs.

He jerked involuntarily against the ropes that held him to the whipping tree and half-screamed again, unable to help himself. He could feel his breath start to rasp in his throat as his pain and terror began to cause his lungs to close up.

After Felix had knocked him out, he recalled only waking with the rough bark of the whipping tree against his cheek, and the feel of the water soaked twine against his slender wrists as he was tied to the tree.

_No. No. No._

He had barely awakened, was only half aware of what was going on, when Felix had began wielding the whip, striking him across the back, bottom, and thighs.

Mouse had been punished like this before, but not in many months . . . years . . . however long it had been . . . Pan had told Felix to stop after Mouse had nearly died one time, turning blue because his strange malady had almost sealed shut his airway when the pain became too great.

But now Pan was gone and Felix was in charge. And Felix practically worshipped Peter, and regarded Mouse as a traitor for giving the blonde woman a bit of information . . . not that it would do her any good . . . because Henry was not on Skull Rock, but safe with Tiger Lily and Rumple . . .

The whip hissed through the air and bit into Mouse's tender flesh again.

The boy threw his head back and made a sharp groan . . . his eyes rolling and he wished like hell he could just pass out and die, but even through his gasps and cries of agony, he remained conscious, proving once again he was as tough as old petrified wood.

"This is what you get, traitor!" Felix snarled, bringing the whip down again and again, grinning at the other boy's screams.

Blood now speckled the boy's breeches and shirt.

Mouse could feel his airway closing and he fought for breath, tears trickling down his face.

He just wanted to die.

Or be taken away.

_Please. Please. Someone . . . help . . . me . . ._

Through the pain filled fog he recalled something.

_"Speak my name three times, lad, and I'll come for you."_

Panting, Mouse hissed, "Rumple . . . stilt . . . skin . . ."

The whip burned another trail of fire across him.

"Rumple . . . stilt . . . _skin!_ He managed to get out the three syllables of the sorcerer's name using three precious breaths.

As if that were some kind of signal, Felix began beating him harder.

Mouse could feel himself start to lose consciousness.

"_Rumple . . ."_

His throat was on fire, as was his backside and thighs.

His tongue flicked out . . . his breath hot and raspy.

" . . ._stilt . . ."_

He could feel the world start to dance in front of him, black spots crowding his vision. He was going to pass out, he couldn't get his breath . . . through the agony he gathered the last shreds of his consciousness . . .

" . . ._skin!"_

The last syllable hissed through his teeth and then Mouse felt himself choke as his asthma closed up his lungs and he passed out.

Felix snarled as he brought his arm back again. "You pansy-assed little coward! I'll teach you to betray Peter Pan! I'll teach you!"

But before he could strike again, purple smoke swirled before him and a very angry Rumplestiltskin emerged from it, having been summoned by the boy now hanging immobile against the wooden post.

Felix gasped and staggered backwards in alarm. "Dark One!"

"You filthy, nasty, wicked son-of-a-_bitch!_" Rumple growled in fury when he beheld Mouse's small figure tied to that pole, his breeches and shirt shredded and blood seeping from the welts on his body. "What the _hell_ do you think you're _doing_?"

"Teaching the traitor a lesson," Felix answered. "This doesn't concern you, Dark One. Leave!"

Rumple lifted a hand, and the whip suddenly rebounded and hissed, becoming a black snake.

Felix screamed and dropped it.

It fell to the ground, hissing and spitting, and lunged at the lieutenant of the Lost Boys.

"You like beating on helpless boys?" Rumple snarled. "See how you like being helpless!"

"Ahhh!" Felix shrieked like a little girl and ran as fast as he could up a tree.

The snake slithered after him, forcing him to climb higher and higher into the tree.

Rumple glared around at the other boys and growled, "And you all like watching the show, huh? Maybe taking a turn after he was done?"

Suddenly sticks became animated and flew after the other Lost Boys, whacking them and sending them fleeing into the jungle, yelping.

Rumple spun and gestured, and Mouse was freed from his bonds. The sorcerer caught him before he sagged to the ground, and hugged him close. "It's okay, Mouse. I've got you, lad." Rumple whispered as he put the boy over his shoulder, alarmed by the child's blue tinge and stillness.

Just as he would have teleported away, Snow, Charming, Hook, Wendy, and Tink raced into the clearing.

"Rumple, wait!" Snow called.

"I can't!" he cried. "I'll send someone back for you." Then he vanished, for he sensed Mouse's life hung in the balance.

"Damn that crocodile!" Hook swore as Rumple disappeared.

About five minutes later, a greenwood tunnel opened up and Tiger Lily stepped from it. "This way! Quickly!" she called, and beckoned the rest of the small band into the tunnel.

As it closed behind them, Felix yelled as the snake finally cornered him and sank its fangs into him, giving him a nasty bite, which though it wouldn't kill him, would make him burn with poison and be sick for a full day unless an antidote was given to him.

**Page~*~*~*~*~Break**

"Mr. Gold . . . Grandpa . . . what happened to him?" Henry cried upon seeing Mouse's limp form in Gold's arms.

"They were . . . beating him . . . and he . . . had an asthma attack," Rumple said, guessing that was what had happened, since he knew a little about asthmatics, as he'd suffered slightly from it as a boy. He dropped to the ground, cradling the small boy in his lap. "Mouse . . .Mouse . . . you're going to be all right . . ." he crooned, and then he called upon his magic to heal the boy.

But at first nothing happened.

Frowning, Rumple tried again.

And this time the magic flickered over the boy . . . then died.

"Huh?" Rumple blinked. He set his hand over the boy's chest again and concentrated harder, sensing that something . . . was blocking his magic.

His eyes widened as he realized that Mouse himself was doing so . . . the boy was . . . was magic resistant . . . a very rare thing . . .

"Mouse . . . lad, please . . . quit fighting me . . . I'm trying to help you . . . Mouse . . ." Rumple called, fearing that if he didn't heal the boy's lungs now he would die . . . but he could only do so if Mouse trusted him enough to prevent his ability from shielding him.

Desperate, Rumple began to try something else.

Just then Hook and Tiger Lily, followed by the others, stepped out of the greenwood tunnel and into the grove.

"What are you doing crocodile?" Hook demanded. "Trying to seduce that kid?"

"Don't be disgusting!" Rumple growled. "Get your filthy mind out of the gutter! I'm trying to revive him, you stupid fuck!" He bent and blew into the boy's mouth again, whispering, "Come on, Mouse! Don't you give up on me, boy!" He pressed the heel of his hand down on the boy's chest, trying to feel for a heartbeat.

Then Tiger Lily was there, and she stroked Mouse's head, murmuring, "Child, come back to us."

"It's no use. He's magic resistant," Rumple told her sadly.

"To your magic, perhaps. Not mine," Tiger Lily answered, then she blew softly into the boy's ear. "Mouse . . . wake up."

Suddenly the boy gasped, coughed, and then drew in a breath.

Then another . . . and another . . . until the blue tinge was gone from his cheeks and he was alert, his eyes tracking on Rumple. "You . . . came . . . for . . . me . . ."

"I told you I would," Rumple smiled at him.

Mouse squirmed against Rumple, whimpering. "Oww!" His brown eyes filled with tears.

"Ahh, I'm sorry," Rumple apologized, realizing at once what was the matter. He gently lifted the boy and put him over his shoulder.

Snow gasped as she saw the boy's battered and bleeding back, thighs, and buttocks. "Rumple, what happened?"

"That little bastard Felix happened," Rumple spat. He rose, gently holding Mouse. "Easy, boy. I'm going to bring you into my tent here, try and heal you. Tiger Lily, I need some cloths, warm water, some healing salve if you have it."

He carried Mouse into his tent, lit up a ball of light and sent it up towards the ceiling, and then gently laid the boy down on his blanket. "I'm sorry I wasn't quicker. But I didn't expect . . . I should have though . . ."

"Don't . . . matter . . . you came . . ." Mouse hissed through gritted teeth. "Not . . . the first . . . time . . . they've . . . whipped me . . .ahh . . ."

"Relax, son. I wish I could heal you, but . . . you've got talent of your own . . . you're magic resistant . . . do you know that?" Rumple asked, using what magic he could to banish the boy's clothing.

"No . . . but . . . I've never . . . Pan's never . . . been able to glamour me like he does the others . . ."

"If you could . . . relax a bit . . . I know it's hard, but . . . if you could I could numb you a little, so you won't feel it when I clean those welts," Rumple said, knowing very well how much pain the child was in.

"I'll try," Mouse said bravely. Then he closed his eyes and tried to breathe slowly, and relax, though the fiery welts throbbed and stung. _Relax . . . relax . . . don't think . . . just pretend you're someplace else . . . think about cool water and fuzzy blankets and sweet cool breezes . . ._

Rumple felt the boy's innate resistance ebb and he quickly set a hand on Mouse's shoulder and concentrated, numbing him.

"Oh . . ." Mouse gasped. "That feels so . . . good . . ."

"I know. Now just stay still," Rumple said, and then took the basin and cloths and jar of salve Tiger Lily handed to him as she walked into the tent. "Thanks."

"Do you need help?" she queried.

"No, I can manage," Rumple said. "Maybe you'd better entertain our guests." He turned and knelt with the items, not knowing how much longer his spell would hold, he knew he'd better work fast.

Tiger Lily departed and Rumple dipped the cloth into the water and began to swab the welts gently.

Ten minutes later, he had finished and covered the now sleeping boy with a light cloth and then another blanket. He would have to ask Tiger Lily for something for pain and fever once Mouse woke again, but right now he was as exhausted as the boy asleep on his blanket.

Not only that, but he knew Belle was waiting for him in the dreamscape . . . and hopefully so was Pan, and then he would give the little wretch a most deserved punishment.

He only hoped Bae succeeded in using Pandora's Box to trap Pan's body.

Rumple conjured another blanket and a pillow and stretched out on the floor beside Mouse, gently ruffling the boy's hair with his hand before drifting off to sleep.

**Page~*~*~*~*~Break**

_The dreamscape:_

_Belle concealed the trapped shadow inside the bakery and then she waited for Rumple to come to her, knowing he would do so as soon as he was able. She seated herself outside the bakery upon a low stool, patiently waiting._

_The dreamscape shivered and suddenly the hairs on the back of her neck prickled._

_Peter Pan appeared suddenly on the path and then his eyes lit on her. "You—woman! Where's my shadow! I know it's here. Now what've you done with it?"_

_"Me?" Belle feigned shock._

_"Yes, you! Tell me quick, or else!" Peter threatened._

_"Or else what?"_

_"Or else I'll make you wish you'd never been born!"_

_"That's what you think," Rumple said, appearing in the dreamscape as well, this time dressed as he was on Neverland, in leathers, looking deadly dangerous even though he did not sport the golden skin and reptilian eyes of the Dark One any longer. "I believe_ _I owe you a few things for your treatment of me so long ago, Peter."_

_Peter stared at the grown-up before him. "Rumplestiltskin!"_

_"That's my name, dearie." He bared his teeth in a hard grin. _

_Peter looked uncertain. "You can't hurt me. I'm the king of Neverland."_

_"Not here you aren't, dearie," Rumple pointed out. "Here you're just a boy. This is the dreamscape, Peter. And there is only one mistress of it." He pointed at Belle. "Her."_

_Peter backed away. "No! That's not true! I rule in Neverland . . . and wherever else I am. Peter Pan never fails!"_

_Rumple snorted. "I'm afraid, boy, that this time the joke's on you. The stakes have changed. And this game belongs to me." His face hard as glacial ice, he stalked forward, and Peter gave ground before him. _

**A/N: Sorry this took so long to update, holidays are crazy in retail . . . and after them too! Some of this was difficult for me to write, so hope you like it. And tell me if you liked this** vers**ion better than the one on the show. Thanks for reading and reviewing, as always. Next chapter . . . you'll see Pan get what's coming to him . . . one way and another . . .**


	9. Reckoning

**9**

**Reckoning**

Bae kept firm hold of the enchanted raft as it followed Peter and the doppelganger, which Bae referred to in his mind as Deuce, across the lagoon and to the outcropping called Skull Rock. Bae had never been to Skull Rock before, only on the main island of Neverland, and didn't know much about the small island except that, according to Rumple, it was a Power site, meaning that great magic could be done upon it . . . the same as had been done at other sites, like Stonehenge and the Valley of Kings, back on Earth. When Bae had expressed shock that magic had been worked in the supposed Land Without Magic, Rumple had explained that magic had once been a prevalent force there . . . back when most of the population still believed in its exsistence. Now, however, the belief had shifted, so that science held sway instead, though magic could still be worked . . . if one knew how to manipulate the latent magical fields and ley lines of energy.

"But that's something I haven't had time to research yet," he had admitted. "So I took a shortcut, and summoned a magical field to Storybrooke that would enable magic to be used there. But long ago, magic was a premiere force on Earth, back before the white men discovered the Americas . . . and it could be so again . . . if enough people believe in it. Right now, though, only magicians born on Earth or who come into their magical powers there can use the magical fields and ley lines easily. The rest of us . . . have difficulty doing so."

Bae knew he'd have to think more on that little tidbit of information, but right now he was focused on his mission, which was to use Pandora's Box to trap Pan's body inside it. His papa had told him that anyone could use the magical box as long as they had a clear purpose in mind when they did so, and focused upon trapping whatever or whoever inside.

It was almost ironic, the way he now relied upon a magical item to help him defeat an enemy, when he had been against using magic at all for so long. Then again, as Tiger Lily had said, you needed magic to fight magic, and not all magic was dark.

He eyed the rowboat up ahead, keeping track of it by listening hard to the slap of the oars as they struck the water, and wishing he could just use the box now, but Rumple had been explicit in telling him that timing was everything, and he had to use the box only after Peter had left his body and went into the dreamscape to search for his shadow.

The moon soared pale and cold overhead, reminding him eerily of other nights he'd spent here, gazing up at the stars and wishing he could go home, either back to London where the Darlings were . . . or even back to the Enchanted Forest where his father was.

He shook his head sharply. _Focus, Bae, focus. You don't have time to indulge in a trip down memory lane right now._

He peered ahead of him into the gathering gloom and listened hard.

The sound of the oars slapping against the water had stopped.

**Page~*~*~*~*~Break**

Peter shipped the oars and jumped out of the rowboat, splashing into the shallow water and beaching the craft upon the small island before he beckoned to the boy he thought was Henry. "Come on, Henry. We're on a schedule here, we need to perform the ritual to save magic when the moon reaches its zenith, which will be soon."

"Okay, Peter. I'm ready."

As Henry climbed out of the boat, Peter started forward towards the skull cave, gesturing sharply as he did so, removing the protections over the entrance so he and Henry could enter.

No sooner had Henry crossed the threshold, then Peter sealed the entrance against anyone attempting to come after him, knowing there was at least two powerful magic workers on Neverland who would attempt to follow him, though he didn't know where they were at the moment. No matter though. By the time Regina or Rumple figured out where he was, or where he'd taken Henry, it would be too late.

He would have his sacrifice, the ritual would be complete, and he would have the magic he needed . . . as well as the apple of immortality he had sent his Shadow to fetch in the dreamscape. He smirked in delight. At last he would achieve his dream . . . of being the most powerful magic worker in the realms. More powerful than the Dark One, more powerful than the Evil Queen. _I'll be like unto a god. Me, Peter Pan. I won't be just the Boy-Who-Never-Grew-Up, but Peter Pan the God of Neverland and All Things Near and Far. And my followers shall be the Lost Boys and any who wish to remain young forever._

He grinned diabolically and whispered, "Hurry, Henry. We need to complete the ritual."

"Okay. But I can't see, Peter. It's dark in here," Henry whined.

Peter rolled his eyes. Then he snapped his fingers and a golden glow illuminated the rock walls. "There! Is that better?" Without waiting for a reply, he led the way deeper into the cavern, towards the place where the altar was, the site of so many former Lost Boys' demise.

**Page~*~*~*~*~Break**

The raft crested a small wave and moored itself upon the rocky beach with a soft grinding noise. Bae hopped off, and glanced about for Pan and Deuce, but saw no sign of them. He gazed at the gigantic outcropping shaped like a skull, hence the name Skull Rock, and figured they had to have gone inside the cavern.

He approached the cavern cautiously, but saw no traps or anything. Still, he would take nothing for granted, not with Pan around. His sneakers crunched upon sandstone as he started for the cavern's gaping maw . . . and was brought up short as he attempted to go inside.

"Dammit!" he swore, as something repelled him, and he staggered backwards, nearly falling on his ass.

Just as Emma cried, "Neal? Oh my God! Is it really you? I thought . . . you were dead!"

Bae spun around to see Emma and Regina step out of a silvery coracle onto the rocky beach just behind him. "Emma? Then Tamara didn't shoot you too?"

Emma approached, her face a mixture of shock and astonishment. She blinked several times. "N-No. I . . . I kicked her ass, but . . . how are you here . . . alive . . .?"

Bae came and took her hands in his, needing to touch her suddenly. "It's complicated. I woke up in a bed in what remained of Aurora's palace. She and Phillip and Mulan saved me and then I traveled to the Dark Castle with Mulan and we found a Seeing globe there my papa had left. As well as Robin Hood and his Merry Men, including his little boy, Roland. I used the globe and saw that you were in Neverland searching for Henry and together Robin, Mulan, and I came up with a plan to lure Pan's shadow to the castle so it could take me to Neverland to find you two."

"You can play catch up later, you two," Regina interrupted. "We need to get Henry out of Pan's clutches before he sacrifices my son!"

Bae turned to her. "Whoa, calm down! You need to hear what I have to say first. Don't go off half-cocked, Regina. That's not Henry in there."

"What do you mean, that's not Henry?" she demanded. "That little rat Felix told us that Pan's taken Henry to Skull Rock!"

"No, he _thinks_ he's taken Henry to Skull Rock," Bae corrected. "He's actually taken Deuce to Skull Rock instead."

"Deuce?" Emma repeated.

"The doppelganger my father made to trick Pan," Bae explained. "Henry's actually with Papa now . . . and Tiger Lily. She helped us find him, like she helped me long ago, when I was trapped here as a boy. We also had a go-between in Pan's camp, a little boy named Mouse. The others treat him like some kind of slave, and he agreed to help us by taking messages back and forth to Henry from my father. He's another of Tiger Lily's protégées."

"Henry's not on Skull Rock?" Regina repeated.

Bae shook his head. "Nope. But Pan thinks he is, which is what we want him to think."

"What have you got planned?" Regina asked slyly. "Knowing Rumple, it's something very very sneaky and clever."

"I have something that can trap Pan here," Bae said cautiously. "But I need to be inside there to use it, and I can't get in. There's a magical barrier blocking me."

Emma strode forward, her hand out, and came up against the barrier and was repelled. "Shit! Regina, do something!"

Regina examined the barrier, testing it with her magical senses. "It's a strong one . . . and can only be breached by . . . someone without a shadow . . . like Pan or those he brings with him."

"I doubt if Deuce has a shadow, considering what he—it—is," Bae speculated.

"Then how do we get inside?" queried Emma.

"We have to lose our shadows," Regina mused.

"And just how the hell do we do that?" Emma scowled at the other magic wielder.

Regina paused to think a moment, trying to come up with a solution.

Then Bae said softly, "When a lunar eclipse happens, your shadow disappears for a time. I've studied astronomy, I know that's true."

Regina nodded slowly. "You're right. It does."

"And? How can that help us?" Emma asked, frustrated.

"We need to recreate an eclipse," Regina said.

Emma goggled at her. "O-okay. And how do we do that?"

"Magic, of course," the other woman stated, as if it were the most obvious thing.

Emma nearly hit herself in the forehead. "Oh, that helps a lot! You going to make the Earth move too?"

"In a manner of speaking," snapped Regina. "I'm going to create a shadow . . . with your help."

"What?"

"I showed you how to create fire, now you're going to learn how to create darkness," said the Evil Queen.

"Uh huh. Next thing you know my head's gonna spin around," Emma snorted.

"If you don't believe, you'll never do anything," Regina growled. "And we'll never stop Pan."

"Regina's right, Emma. You need to believe that you can do this. You're a magician too," Bae stated. "And most successful spells are based upon the will and belief of the caster."

Emma gave him a skeptical look. "Just how do you know that, Neal?"

"My father told me."

"Okay. I'll try," she said, doubt coloring her tone.

"No. Do, or do not. There is no try," Bae said, quoting a famous movie.

"Who the hell died and reincarnated you as Yoda, Neal?" Emma frowned.

"It's good advice, Emma. Take it. Or else we'll never defeat Pan. And he needs to be defeated, or else none of us will be safe," Bae pointed out. "Because he'll keep attacking us until he gets what he wants—Henry's heart and rulership over all the realms."

"Over my dead body," Regina spat. "Come on, _savior_. Show me what you're made of. Or are you too afraid to find out?"

Emma glared at her. "Like hell I am. All right. Show me what I need to do." Her blood was boiling at Regina's insinuation.

"You need to concentrate, to focus, and to call a shadow to cover the moon," said the elder magician.

Emma took a deep breath. Then she shut her eyes, imagining what she wished to happen, and called upon her nascent magic. Once she would have scoffed at the idea that she even had magic, much less could cast spells with it. But after being in Storybrooke and learning some magic from Gold, as well as being on the end of the rather pointed lecture from him about belief being central to rescuing Henry on Neverland had gradually changed her perception about possible versus impossible.

Regina had taught her how to summon fire, how hard could it be to do the reverse?

_Believe. Belief is at the heart of all magic. Neverland was founded on belief. As a child I believed . . . in all of it. Fairytales, magic, unicorns. Then I grew up . . . and stopped believing because . . . everyone told me not to. But now . . . now I need to find the child within me again . . . and use her to help me believe I can do this . . ._

She concentrated, recalling all of the times when she would pretend she was someone else, a princess, a girl who had a family, a girl who was loved and cherished.

Now all those fantasies had come true, she realized.

She was not, as Pan had labeled her, a Lost Girl any longer.

She was Emma Swan, true. But Emma Swan was also a princess, with a family, parents who loved her, a son who loved her . . . and Neal . . . who also loved her.

_I am Emma . . . the savior of Storybrooke. And I will summon this shadow and cover the moon. And then we'll go inside this cave or whatever you call it and find that lying little shit Pan and kick his adolescent ass,_ she vowed.

It was then that she at last came into her own, and understood truly the magic that lived within her.

Belief was Power. And she believed, truly and completely.

Within her, the power began to build . . . until it surged from her in one great pulse of power . . . and summoned a shadow . . . along with Regina . . . to veil the moon.

Without light, their own shadows vanished . . . allowing them to pass the barrier and enter Skull Cavern.

**Page~*~*~*~*~Break**

Peter led Henry directly into the heart of the cavern, which was a round room formed entirely of dark rock, almost like that of a volcano. Stalagmites cropped up around the edges of the cavern, and a few stalactites hung from the ceiling as well, giving the place the impression of a gaping maw looking to swallow up whatever came within reach.

There was a small rectangular slab of basalt rock in the center of the cavern, brought there by Pan's magic. It had the stubs of some black candles upon it, which had been made of the ashes of former sacrifices, other Lost Boys gone to feed Pan's need for magic, formed of ashes and rendered tallow from small animals.

Peter could feel excitement course through him at the sight of the altar. Once he had Henry's heart, all his dreams would come true. He turned to the other boy and said, with a florid gesture, "Now . . . you want to save magic, don't you, Henry? To save Neverland and keep it alive so generations of boys and girls can keep believing in it?"

Henry nodded. "Yes, of course. Magic is important. Everyone needs something to believe in. Especially kids like me . . . who've been lied to their whole lives about who they were."

Peter let a compassionate look creep over his face. "I know how that is, Henry. The adults in my life lied to me too . . . that's why I ran away and came here . . . that's why I started the Lost Boys, to give kids like I was a safe haven . . . where they could be kids and not be forced to grow up . . . because who wants to be like those imbeciles, who've forgotten how to have fun, how to play, how to enjoy life? They've forgotten everything that really matters . . . including the magic. And they've taught their children to forget too. But together, you and I can bring the magic back, Henry! We can make it flourish again . . . and usher in a golden age, make a new Neverland, where you and I rule and no one can challenge us! Wouldn't you like that? To be a hero for once, like everyone else in your family?"

He waited, sensing that the boy was slowly capitulating, knowing from the beginning that there was a secret wish in him to be just like the heroes in his family and in the tales he had read about.

"Yes. I want to be a hero and save magic," Henry responded, his eyes shining.

Peter slapped him on the back. "Yeah, that's what I hoped you'd say! That's why I said you have the Heart of the Truest Believer." He gave Henry a cocky grin. "Neverland needs you to restore it to its former glory."

"What do I have to do, Peter?" asked Henry eagerly.

"It's very simple, actually. You just have to participate in the ritual," Peter said. He gestured to the basalt slab. "I need you to come over here and lie down on this slab of rock."

Henry came and looked at the slab of rock, then hopped up on it and lay down. "Now what, Peter?"

Peter smiled. "Now you close your eyes and think lovely thoughts, Henry. About how much you want to be a hero, and restore magic, and save Neverland. I'll do the rest."

"That's all?"

"That's everything. What the Heart of the Truest Believer believes happens," Peter persuaded, his voice low and filled with conviction, using every ounce of glamour he possessed to entice the other boy into doing as he suggested. He had discovered long ago that the willing sacrifice gave him more power than one that was taken by force.

He concealed a smirk of pure glee when Henry shut his eyes and started breathing deeply.

"That's it. Focus on how much you want to save Neverland, Henry. Finally you'll be the hero, not just read about it. You'll be the savior . . . just like your mother and your grandparents. And someday people will write stories about _you_, Henry Mills, the boy whose belief brought magic back and saved Neverland from oblivion," Pan purred, licking his lips.

He waited, watching the moon from the skylight above, as it crept over the hole in the cavern ceiling.

When the moonlight shone down upon the boy, centering right over his heart, the whole reason Pan had placed the altar where he had, Peter lit the candles and wafted them over the boy, sending him into a trance-like state.

Peter smiled, counting off the seconds in his head. When he reached ten, he acted, reaching out and sticking his hand into Henry's chest, grabbing for the heart of the Truest Believer.

Only to find the heart wasn't there!

_There has to be a mistake!_ Peter thought, his fingers groping for the heart within Henry's chest cavity. _It has to be here!_

"What's the matter, little boy? Lost something?" Regina sneered as she entered the cavern.

Pan jerked upright. "No! You're not supposed to be here!" he shouted upon seeing her, Emma, and another man enter his sanctuary. "Get out!"

Regina laughed. "Make me."

Furious, Peter lashed out at her with his magic, repelling her into a wall with a sharp gesture. He would have done the same to Emma and Bae, but Emma erected a shield and blocked his strike, using a similar construct to the one she had when she had used Gold's magical chalk to seal his shop against Cora.

Deuce stirred upon the slab and Peter snapped his eyes back and half-crooned, "Don't pay any attention to what's happening here, Henry. It's not important. Just lie still and think lovely thoughts." He sketched a circle around him preventing the intruders from coming any closer and thrust his hand back inside Henry's chest.

"Where is it?" he half-screeched. "Where's the heart of the Truest Believer?"

"Where you'll never find it," taunted Regina.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean you've been tricked, silly boy!" the witch queen snickered. "You can't find a heart in someone who wasn't born with one."

"You make no sense, you old bitch!" Pan glared at her. "All children have a heart!"

"Whoever said that was a child?" laughed Regina.

Pan jerked his hand free of Henry and frowned hard at the boy lying on the slab. "No! This isn't Henry! It's . . . it's nothing but . . . spit and dirt! A construct!" He stamped his foot on the floor, just like a child in a temper. "No! No! You're not playing fair! This isn't how the game is supposed to go!"

"Welcome to the real world, kid. You can't always get what you want," Bae said coldly.

"Shut up!" Peter howled. "Yes I can! I'm the king of Neverland! And I never ever fail!" His eyes bright with rage, he clenched his fist and the doppelganger on the table made a choking gasping sound. "I don't need you anymore," Pan spat. He closed his hand over Deuce's chest.

Then the doppelganger exploded into dust.

"Shadow, where are you?" he called loudly. "Come and deal with these interlopers. Now!"

But the shadow did not come.

Jaw clenched, Pan summoned it again.

Again there was no response.

"Hades' bloody balls! Must I do everything myself?" Peter snapped irritably, then he closed his eyes and willed himself into the dreamscape, his body crumpling to the cavern floor an instant later.

**Page~*~*~*~*~Break**

It was then that Bae saw his chance. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the ornate filigreed box with the Greek runes carved upon it. "Bad little boys who kill and maim and destroy other people's lives get sent to prison," he said coldly. "Forever . . . until they die there!"

He flipped open the lid of the box and willed it to latch onto Peter and draw him inside of it.

**Page~*~*~*~*~Break**

_The dreamscape:_

_Too late Peter realized that the apple of immortality he'd sent his shadow to get was a ruse too, for it and his shadow were nowhere to be found. Only the stupid baker was there . . . and so was Rumplestiltskin, his one-time playmate and partner in mischief. Except Rumple wasn't the skinny hero-worshipping little prick he'd once been. Now he was an adult . . . and furthermore an adult sorcerer._

_Still, that shouldn't matter either. Grown-ups were clumsy stupid dipshits. He'd always been able to run circles around them without half-trying. He still had his magic, and that meant he could still play games. And any game he chose to play, he'd win. It was the unwritten Law of Neverland. _

_Filled once again with the cocky self-confidence he'd perpetuated over the centuries, Peter drew himself up and planted his feet on the ground. He put his fists on his hips, threw back his head, and crowed loudly. _

_"I'll find your apple, can't hide it from me, no matter where you put it, it will always be, found because I'm Peter Pan, Lord of Neverland, King of Land and Sea, anything I want, becomes mine, you see!" he chanted an old rhyme he'd invented long ago, back when he'd learned the power of the shadows and brought the first of his Lost Boys to the island. _

_"Do you really think so, boy?" Belle queried, one eyebrow raised._

_"I don't think, mistress, I know! Peter Pan never fails! All life's a game and I play to win!" he tittered, then he jumped into the air, soaring above the baker and Rumple, light as thistledown, he darted at her, conjuring sharp stabbing shards of light that became spinning metal knives, which he threw at her. "You won't talk, then I'll make you!"_

_He expected her to cower away from him, but to his shock, she simply remained where she was._

_His knives streaked at her . . . and she put out a hand and they dissolved into shafts of harmless sunlight!_

_He drew up, hovering, his mouth agape. "How . . . how'd you do that? You shouldn't be able to!"_

_Belle smiled at him serenely. "Why?"_

_"Why? Because I'm the Lord of Neverland and nobody bests me!" he cried petulantly._

_"You may be the Lord of Neverland, like you claim, but we're not in Neverland any more," she refuted. "We're in the realm of dreams. And here, in this place, I am the mistress, not you, little boy." _

_"No!" he yelled, sounding just like a spoiled child who didn't get his way. "That's not how it works! I command the power of the shadows! And the magic of the island, not grown-ups! Shadow, to me!"_

_He waited for his Shadow to return to him, as it always had before, no matter where it was._

_But this time it did not. Against all reason, it stayed away._

_Furious, Pan swooped at the baker, conjuring vines to trap and wind about her, with sharp prickly thorns to tear her skin and inject a burning venom into her veins, that would make her tell him where his Shadow was, where the apple was, where anything he needed to know was . . . and afterwards it would kill her . . . like it did the pirates he'd captured. _

_The ground split beneath Belle's feet and the putrid yellow vines with their nasty purplish thorn emerged from the ground . . . and just as they started to wrap about the insolent baker . . . she was gone . . . and then she puffed her cheeks out and the vines turned black, withered, and died. _

_She stood unharmed before him and said maddeningly, "I told you, Peter. I guess you weren't paying attention. Here in the dreamscape . . . **I** make the rules."_

_"NO!" he screeched, red-faced with fury. He clenched his fists together and magic erupted from them . . . smashing into the bakery and putting a hole the size of a cannonball through the roof, it shook the ground and sizzled, causing a gaping crater in the earth. _

_Belle just shook her head disapprovingly. "My my, Rumple. Looks like someone's having a tantrum."_

_Rumple quirked an eyebrow at her. "That's because someone's a spoiled little brat who thinks he can tell everyone what to do."_

_"I **can** tell everyone what to do!" Peter protested. "You're not listening. I play for keeps! And I always win! I won before, Rumplestiltskin!"_

_Rumple's eyes narrowed. "You won before because I was a naïve little boy who trusted a scapegrace con artist who betrayed him because I wouldn't do what he wanted me to—steal from the only people who were ever kind and decent to me."_

_"And where'd **that** get you, Rumple?" sneered Peter, his handsome boyish face twisting into a cruel parody of a smile. "Beaten by that fat alderman for a crime you didn't commit! If you'd done what I'd asked, you'd have been rich and been my companion, but no, you wanted to be a good little boy. Well, good little boys end up good little scapegoats, Rumple!"_

_Rumple's mouth hardened. "Only when wicked little bastards betray them. Like you've done all these boys you've brought to Neverland. You've convinced them this is some kind of paradise where they never have to grow up, never take any kind of responsibility, and only follow rules they wish to—but that's a lie, isn't it, Peter? Because you're using them, using them for your own sick amusement, to feed your vanity and power, you wretched wicked little imp!"_

_Peter threw back his head and laughed. "So what? They want to play with me. My game, **my** rules!" He dove at Rumple, a sword suddenly flickering into his grasp. "Think fast, Rumple! Before I gut you like a codfish!"_

_He slashed at the sorcerer, his face turning hard and cold with wicked glee._

_"Rumple!" Belle called. "Do what you will. My magic is yours."_

_Rumple felt the endless possibilities of the dreamscape fill him at her words, and he took it and used it to create a net of glittering motes of light . . . which he twirled and threw at Peter._

_The net flew at the crowing boy, entangling his sword and then it yanked it from his grasp and sent the sword tumbling end over end through the air, until it disappeared over the horizon. _

_"Hey!" Peter squawked. "No fair!"_

_Rumple smirked at him. "Is too!" he giggled. "Now we play by **my** rules, Pan! And I say . . . you lose!" _

_Peter made a rude gesture at him. "Oh, shove it up your ass, Rumple! Losing's for cowards and weaklings like you!" He conjured again, calling up the shadows that were his playthings, and sending them against the snickering sorcerer._

_Shadows grew into menacing horned demons, things with dozens of arms and gnashing teeth and hellish red eyes, sprouting claws and tentacles and whiplike tails._

_They surged forward in a knot, then separated and oozed over the ground, until they surrounded Rumple and smothered him in their embrace._

_"I won! See? See, old man! Peter Pan never fails! Hahahaha!" He waited for the screams to begin, to feel Rumple's life force being sucked away as the shadows drained him of all his magic, transferring his cowardly essence to their master._

_But the shadows writhed, undulating like a serpent swallowing their prey . . . and then were torn asunder as beams of brilliant light exploded outwards from the knot of darkness._

_The shadows screeched in agony, burning away in the scorching heat and light, unable to withstand Rumple's counterattack._

_Within seconds, they were gone, wisps of smoke drifting upon the wind._

_Peter hovered a few feet above the ground, his mouth falling open, gaping wide enough to catch flies._

_Then he stamped his foot. "You can't do that! I won! I won!"_

_Rumple smiled at him coldly. "It's about time you learned something. Winning isn't everything."_

_"It's the only thing!" Peter howled, then went to fly out of reach._

_"Realy, dearie?" chuckled Rumple. "Then you lose, brat!" Then he reached up and grabbed Peter by the ankle._

_"Lemme go!" the boy yelped, struggling to get away. He kicked out with his opposite foot, trying to hit Rumple in the eye._

_But the sorcerer was too quick, jerking his head to the side._

_Peter's foot missed its mark._

_Rumple clicked his tongue in disapproval. Then he tugged hard, pulling the struggling boy down from the sky. "Naughty little brats who kick their elders get punished," he growled._

_"Like hell!" Peter yelled. "I'm going to fucking kill you, Rumple!" He tried to summon more magic, but the magic refused, for the first time in centuries, to obey him. Steely fingers clamped over his belt, and pulled him from the air and onto the ground._

_"**You ** were the one, Peter, who swore you would always be there for me, but that time when you stole the ring, you let **me** take the blame, and I got beaten instead of you, and you said, well, sometimes you win and sometimes you lose. Remember? I do! And this time-you **lose**, Pan. You want to be the Boy Who Never Grows Up? Okay, but that doesn't change the fact that you're a nasty wicked little child, and children like you deserve to be paddled till they can't sit down for a month, for starters." With a wicked chuckle, Rumple tucked the squirming squiggling boy under his arm and strode over to a stool outside the smoking remains of the bakery that had somehow escaped the destruction the boy had caused. Ignoring his captive's attempts to get free, he sat down._

"You can't do this, Rumple! I'm Peter Pan!" Peter shrieked as Rumple bent him over his knee. "I'm the lord of Neverland! I always win!"

"Not this time, boy. Time for you to learn a new lesson. And by the way . . . this is going to hurt you A LOT more than it will me," Rumple sneered. He summoned the wooden paddle Belle had leaning up against the trestle. Pinning the monstrous brat over his lap with one hand, he lifted the paddle and brought it down hard across Pan's upturned bottom. "That's for trying to kill my grandson!"

_"Oww! Lemme go!" the Lord of the Lost Boys wailed, clawing frantically at the sorcerer's leg. "I won't be treated like this!"_

_"Like what? The miserable impudent little shit you are?" Rumple declared, bringing the paddle down again. "**That's** for making me take the blame for your thievery! And **this** is for trapping my son on your bloody island! And for ensnaring all those innocent children over the years to play your sadistic little games! Like Mouse!" With each new grievance listed, Rumple emphasized his point with the paddle, giving the rotten bully a richly deserved thrashing._

"Oww! OWW! Rumplestiltskin, STOP! OWW! How dare you?"

Peter kicked and writhed, having never felt so helpless and so humiliated in his life . . . except before he became the Boy Who Never Grew Up. No, even when he was an actual boy, he'd never let any adult punish him in this manner. Ever.

_His backside was smarting like he'd sat on a hive of hornets as Rumple applied the hard paddle over and over, smacking his behind and thighs in a relentless rhythm. He began to scream every swear word he'd ever learned, and then he sank his teeth into the sorcerer's knee in a fury._

Rumple sucked in a breath, but didn't release the would-be conqueror of realms. With a thought he healed his knee, and then blunted the boy's teeth. "You rotten bastard! Now that's five more for biting me!"

_He tilted the boy slightly, and applied the paddle even more vigorously._

Pan howled as Rumple continued spanking, sobbing, "I **hate** you, Rumple! It's no fair!"

_"Neither is life! All magic comes with a price, Peter! And you've avoided paying it for far too long. What goes around comes around, boy! But this is only the beginning."_

_Feeling his arm grow tired, Rumple stopped paddling. Besides, the howls were grating on his sensitive eardrums. He flicked his wrist and the paddle vanished. Then, still keeping the wretch over his knee, he said, "When a lord abuses his privilege and power, his people revolt and teach him the error of his ways. By stripping him of his lands, his wealth, his dignity, and his position. That's the fate of tyrants, whether they're kings or naughty little boys playing a game. And that shall be your fate too, child."_

_"Nooo!" His face blotchy and ugly from tears and snot dripping down his face, he attempted to get off Rumple's lap. _

_Rumple took him by the back of his tunic and stood him up. "Your reign of tyranny is over, Peter Pan. Now and forever. Neverland is free from your manipulations and your power games."_

_"I'm immortal! You don't play fair!"_

_"Like I said before. Life isn't fair. Deal with it." Dragging the rebellious boy across the grass, Rumple twirled a finger and a long low cell appeared. "This is an oubliette. In the old tongue of another world—a place of forgetting. Here you shall be put, and here you shall stay . . . until everyone forgets about the Lord of Neverland and the Boy Who Never Grew Up. Fame is fleeting, Peter Pan. And villains don't get happy endings."_

_He tossed the boy into the prison, shutting the door with a final clang. _

_Peter lunged at the door of the cell, his hands gripping the bars. "Rumplestiltskin! You son-of-a-bitch! You can't do this to me! I'm Peter Pan! I never fail! I'm Peter Pa-a-a-n!"_

_Belle rolled her eyes. Then she sent the cell from her with a quick gesture. "Tell it to someone who cares, brat. I wonder if he'll get sick and tired of yelling that to the void?"_

_Rumple shrugged. "Eventually . . . or not. There's one thing he failed to realize. Immortality, like payback, can be a bitch. And he'll have eternity to contemplate his sins."_

_Then he took Belle in his arms and kissed her breathless._

_Just before the dreamscape reverberated and shook around them. _

_"You'd better go, love," he urged her. "That means that Bae succeeded in trapping Pan's body within the box, and magic is resuming its normal flow over the island . . . and conversely, here as well."_

_"I love you, Rumple. Return to me," she called, releasing him._

_"Two days more, Belle!" he cried, then he vanished._

_Belle waved, then she too slipped away from the dreamscape, waking an instant later in her own bed in Storybrooke._

**Page~*~*~*~*~Break**

_Neverland:_

Bae concentrated hard, and the box glowed with green ribbons of light, which shot out in a sinuous green mist, creeping across the cavern floor and wrapping around Pan and sucking him into the depths of the box. As soon as the flickering magical light was contained, Bae snapped the lid shut, and Pan was trapped within the ancient receptacle.

Suddenly the cavern shuddered violently as Skull Rock reacted to the reversal of magic. Seams and cracks erupted all over the walls and floor and chunks of rock began to fall from the ceiling.

"Regina! Get us out of here!" Emma yelped, dodging a piece of rock the size of her arm.

"Grab my hands! Quickly!" Regina called, and held out her hands.

Bae and Emma seized them and were transported away . . . just as the dome of Skull Cavern collapsed.

Out on the beach, waves and froth lapped the island, as the three appeared on the shore, then ran for the raft and leaped upon it.

A wave carried it off the beach, and the three hung on as the raft propelled them towards the mainland.

As it sped through the waves, a red head poked through the water. "Bae!" Ariel called.

Bae stared at the mermaid. "Hey! What are you doing here?"

"I have one more task to perform. Give me Pandora's Box."

"What for?" Regina demanded.

"Rumplestiltskin asked me to take it and throw it deep in the Bottomless Trench. It's the least I can do after he helped me find my own happy ending with Eric," Ariel told them. She held out her hand.

Bae handed her the box. "Take it away, girl. Far far away!"

Ariel turned, and made a graceful leap, diving back into the lagoon, swimming as fast and hard as only a mermaid could swim, down into the depths of deep blue sea and far from Neverland, to a place the merfolk only knew as the Bottomless Trench.

She drew back her arm, then flung the box hard.

End over end it tumbled, winking one last time like a fallen star from the heavens.

Before it sank into the depths, imprisoning the body of Peter Pan forever.

And the Balance of Power on Neverland was restored once more.

**A/N: So . . . how was that for a resolution? And there's about two or three more chapters before I wrap it up!**


	10. Going Home

**10**

**Going Home**

When Emma, Bae, and Regina arrived back on Neverland's shore, Tiger Lily was waiting for them. The dryad eyed the two other magic wielders curiously then said, "Follow me into the greenwood tunnel and I'll take you to see your son."

The three eagerly followed her into the magical tunnel and soon emerged in the grove, where they found Henry along with Snow, Charming, Hook and Rumple, sitting around a low table eating some food the dryad had provided earlier. A small boy in a rather large linen shirt was standing next to Rumple, eating some berries from a bowl and drinking some coconut milk from a wooden cup. The shirt was one Rumple had conjured, and came down past Mouse's knees, and was loose enough to not aggravate or hurt the welts he still sported.

When the three adults and the dryad emerged from the tunnel, Mouse started, nearly spilling his drink all over Rumple. "Sorry! I'm sorry, Master Rumple!" he half-whimpered.

"It's okay, lad. It's only Emma, Bae, and Regina," Rumple soothed. "And just call me Rumple."

"Mom!" Henry cried upon seeing both his mothers and then, "Dad!" as well upon seeing Bae. He got up from the table and ran over to hug them.

Mouse watched the little family reunion with a sudden flicker of longing stealing over his slender face. He'd never had any kind of contact with adults until Rumple and Bae . . . though a part of him had always longed for a family . . . except nobody would want him as a son, not being so sickly and weak and everything.

He felt himself flush recalling how Rumple had tended him before falling asleep, and again just after he'd woken, gently applying salve to his cuts, so deftly that he'd hardly felt much pain. He'd tried to apologize for being so much trouble, but Rumple had said only, "You're hurt, and I'm just helping you. It's no trouble, lad."

He buried his face in his mug of coconut milk to hide the wistful expression on it.

Rumple had been looking up at him for a moment, however, and caught the child's expression. Once again he felt that same keen sense of compassion and kinship with the lost little boy. He would have to speak to Belle about Mouse when they returned to Storybrooke. The sorcerer glanced over at the little reunion taking place and smiled a bit wistfully himself, thinking that maybe things could be different between them now that Henry was rescued.

Tiger Lily approached him, looking serious. "Rumple, I need to speak with you. Now that Pan is gone, I and my sisters wish to reclaim Neverland and restore it to its former self . . . the way it was before Pan and his Lost Boys came here. But in order to do so, all of them . . . and Hook's crew of pirates . . . must leave here and never return."

"I understand," Rumple said. "Let me speak with my son and the others and we'll discuss taking the Lost Boys back to Storybrooke with us."

Tiger Lily looked relieved at that. "Good. And . . . might I also ask your help with a spell to protect and cloak Neverland, so that only children in dreams shall ever find it again? Now that Pan had been overthrown, no more shadows will go and steal away children on his orders. My sisters are even now setting free all the shadows in the Dark Hollow, so the only one that will exist here is the original one, which is the Shadow of the island."

"The Shadow of the island, dearie?"

"Yes. It's Neverland itself manifested into a form that it can communicate with us," the dryad explained. "That's the only true shadow permitted here. The other ones are free to leave."

"I see. That's very interesting," Rumple said. "And I will be glad to help you, dearie."

Tiger Lily smiled. "And perhaps, I shall be able to help you as well," she said mysteriously. "But first, you speak with your family and these others, while I go and talk with my sisters." She merged into her oak tree in a twinkling.

Not wanting to interrupt the tender reunion, Gold waited until they had stopped hugging before he rose to address Emma and Bae, reminding them of the need to gather up the other Lost Boys and take them from Neverland as per Tiger Lily's request.

"I would have done that anyway," Bae said.

"Will they all want to come with us?" Emma asked.

"It doesn't matter if they do or not, dearie. They have to, since that was one of the terms of my agreement with Tiger Lily. Once she helped me defeat Peter, then Neverland would return to its former state, and no one save its original inhabitants would be allowed to stay," Rumple explained. "So the Lost Boys will come back to Storybrooke with us, and we'll have to find homes and guardians for them."

Bae nodded. "I think that's just what they need, Papa. Will you be fostering one?"

"Well . . . I was thinking about it . . . if he and Belle agree . . . I'd like to take Mouse," Gold said diffidently.

"That would be okay with him, I think," Bae mused. He'd seen the rapport between the little boy and his father and thought it was rather awkward yet oddly sweet at the same time. And Mouse seemed to trust Rumple more than he did any of the other adults here, and no wonder since Rumple had saved his life.

"Neal, we should go and talk with the other Lost Boys, explain to them what's going on now that Pan's . . . gone," Emma said.

"Yes, you're right," he agreed. "Now how do we get there?"

"I can transport you there," Rumple said calmly.

Bae looked over at Emma. "Okay, let's go."

Rumple waved a hand and they vanished in a puff of purple smoke, reappearing in the center of the Lost Boy's camp.

When he turned about again, he found Snow behind him, looking rather uneasy. "Rumple, I have a favor to ask you," she began.

He raised an eyebrow. "What sort of favor, dearie?"

Haltingly, she began to explain how David had been poisoned by dreamshade and how Hook had given him some magical water from a spring on Neverland and now it wouldn't allow him to leave the island or else he'd die.

Rumple started to reply to her, sensing how desperate she was, when there came a sudden movement at his elbow, and Mouse said shyly, "I . . . I know a way that you can . . . cure the dreamshade poisoning."

"You do? How?" gasped Snow.

"Ask Tiger Lily. She knows how to cure most things, because she's a dryad and they have dominion over plants," Mouse informed her quietly. Then he dropped his eyes to the ground in embarrassment at having spoken up like that to an adult.

Snow looked like she had been given the elixir of youth or something like its equivalent. She beamed at Mouse and said, "Thank you, Mouse! Thank you very much!"

Mouse ducked his head, flushing at her praise. He'd never had a pretty woman like this praise him before . . . or anyone really, now that he thought about it. But he was glad he could help, since these people had rid him of Pan forever. Though he was glad of it, he was also uncertain for he didn't know what would become of him now that they were leaving Neverland for wherever this Storybrooke place was. Then he shrugged and supposed it had to be better than here, and wherever he ended up, they would always need someone to scrub the floor and clean up garbage and whatnot.

"Of course. Should have thought of that myself," Gold said, and gave the little boy an approving look. Then he went on to explain where Emma and Bae had gone and why.

At the other end of the table, Henry and Regina were talking softly, and Regina put a hand over Henry's heart and used her magic to prevent anyone from taking it from him.

Henry winced. "It stings."

"I know. But now no one can ever take your heart," Regina said, then she hugged him again. "And as soon as we can, we'll be off this island and we can go home."

"As long as I can repair a sail," Hook stated.

"What kind of sail?" asked the queen. "We're going to need more than that to get home."

"Magical sail." Hook responded. "Maybe you can help with that, eh?"

Regina nodded. "I'll take a look at it when we're back on the ship." For now, though, she decided to eat and then take a nap. Using her magic back on Skull Rock had taxed her more than a little, though she didn't like to admit it.

Mouse huddled against a tree, finishing up his berries and milk, watching his new "companions". Snow and David, the princess and prince, he thought in awe, seemed like decent people, and even the tall dark-haired woman Regina, Henry's adopted mother, looked to be okay. It was Hook that made him nervous. Hook had been the enemy of the Lost Boys and Pan's enemy too. He and his crew had fought Mouse's "brothers" more than once, and Mouse was wary of the pirate. He didn't know if Hook could be trusted. Then again, he didn't really know if any of them could—except for Rumple, Henry, and Bae. Biting his lip, he stood rather stiffly beside the large oak tree, careful to not touch it with his backside. He wondered if Baelfire and the blonde woman—Emma—were having a tough time convincing the other boys to leave. Felix would probably argue against it. Mouse grimaced, shuddering. He didn't want to think about Felix.

Rumple finished talking to the Charmings and glanced around, finally spotting Mouse beside a tree. The boy was so quiet, he thought, that he could have been a ghost. He approached the youngster, saying softly, "Mouse, have you had enough to eat?"

The child nodded. "Yes, sir."

"Good." Rumple waved a finger and the bowl in the boy's hand blinked over to the table. "How are you feeling, son? A little better?"

Another quick nod. Rumple eyed him shrewdly. Knowing what he did of the child, he suspected Mouse would have said he was fine if he was in danger of losing a limb. He reached out a hand to feel the boy's forehead. "Hmm. You feel a bit warm to me. Then again, it could be the heat here. I wish I had a thermometer." He shook his head. "Ah, well. If wishes were horses . . . maybe you ought to go and lie down. We may be here for another few hours, depending on what Tiger Lily's discussing and if Bae and Emma have trouble convincing the Lost Boys to come with us."

"They could have a problem. Like with Felix."

Rumple scowled, then said, "Maybe not so much as you'd think. Not if he's still sick from the snake venom."

"Snake venom?"

"That's right. You don't know about what I did to him for whipping the blazes out of you," Rumple told him. "You were passed out on that pole when I got there and saw him with the whip in his hand. He was lucky I didn't kill him instead of transform that whip into a snake and send it after him. It bit him just as I was leaving to bring you here."

Mouse gaped. "Felix . . . bit by a snake? Is he dead?"

"No. The snake's venom paralyzes you and makes you very sick for a day, but it doesn't kill. But I'm sure he's suffering like he made you suffer," Rumple said heatedly.

"That'd be a first," Mouse muttered. "Peter always . . . he always liked Felix, it's why he was the First Boy."

"The First Boy?"

"First among us," Mouse clarified. "It meant he could tell us what to do, sometimes, because Peter let him. He got the best weapons and treehouse and we all had to do what he said. Especially me, since I was the Last Boy."

"Well, you're not the Last Boy anymore. And you'll never have to obey him and his insane dictates ever again." He was about to say more when he noticed the child hiding a yawn. "Why don't you go take a nap?"

"Okay. M'tired," Mouse muttered, finding it to be true. He went back to the tent he'd shared with Rumple, carefully lying on his stomach on the blanket there.

Rumple followed. "Are you in pain? I can give you another dose of that medicine Tiger Lily gave me if you are."

Mouse thought about it. He was still sore, but . . . "No. M'fine."

"You tell me if you're hurting," Rumple encouraged. "Let me take a look at your back again, lad. I'll put some more salve on if you need it. Okay? Now relax, Mouse. Lie still."

Mouse put his head on his hands and did so, as the magician gently lifted his shirt and examined the awful crisscrossing pattern of cuts and bruises on his lower back, bottom, and thighs.

Rumple frowned. The cuts were raw and red, he wasn't sure if they were infected. Just looking at them made him angry all over again. He knew Tiger Lily's salve would help though, and he went and fetched it from his small pack and said, "I'm going to put a wee bit more on you, dearie. Sorry if it's uncomfortable. Be still, son."

The boy whimpered involuntarily when Rumple first began to smooth some on, for even though the magician was as gentle as possible, his tender flesh stung.

"Okay. Shhh. I'll be done soon. Try and sleep," Rumple continued talking, his voice a low hum, trying to relax the child and wishing like hell he could use magic to heal him. He hated causing the poor kid more pain, and kept his touch as light as possible. The child whimpered again as he touched one of the worst cuts and Rumple murmured, "Sorry. I know, this is the worst part. Relax, Mouse. Let me tell you a little story . . ." he began making up something, just to keep the boy's mind off what was happening, and by the time he'd finished doing what he needed to, he saw the child asleep on the blanket. "Thank God," Rumple breathed in relief, and covered him with the light cloth. "I'll have to take him to see Whale when we get back home, get some antibiotics in him," he said to himself as he wiped his hands on a rag. But for now, sleep was best.

When he emerged from the tent, he saw Tiger Lily talking with Snow and Charming, then handing Charming a small vial of something, probably the antidote Mouse had mentioned. Both of them looked vastly relieved as he drank it.

That's one problem solved, Rumple thought. Now for the rest of them.

**Page~*~*~*~*~Break**

_Storybrooke:_

Belle could hardly wait for the next two days to go by. She felt like she was in a state of constant expectation and excitement, mixed with euphoria. Ruby noticed how giddy she was when she came in to eat her hamburger the next day, after they had trapped Pan within the dreamscape and in Pandora's Box, and asked, "So, what have you been drinking, girlfriend? Something good, I hope. Want to share?"

Belle chuckled. "I've been dreaming. Well, a little more than that," she said, giving her friend a secret smile.

"Man, you look like you're having some really wild fantasies," Ruby grinned. "Like even when you're awake." She set an iced tea down in front of her.

"Ruby, you have _no_ idea," Belle smirked, thinking as she ate her hamburger that as Mistress of the Booke of Dreams, she could have untold wicked fantasies . . . until Rumple came home, and then she'd have the reality.

**Page~*~*~*~*~Break**

_Neverland:_

At last everyone was on board the Jolly Roger, including all the Lost Boys, even Felix, who was still groggy and ill from the effects of the viper that had bitten him. Tiger Lily could have given him something to counteract the rest of the venom, but after seeing what his cruelty had done to Mouse, she had no sympathy for him, and since he wasn't dying and would recover eventually, did not bother procuring one for him.

Rumple alone remained on the shore of Neverland, next to Tiger Lily, while further up the beach was a circle of dryads, ready to help cast the protection spell that would also make the island unable to be found by anyone save children in dreams, as it had been so long ago, before Peter had come and twisted and polluted the magic for his own ends.

Tiger Lily stood with one foot on the shore and the other in the water, for the boundary spell must be cast over both mediums in order to be truly effective. Several yards out from shore was the Jolly Roger, magical pegasus sail billowing, having been fixed by Regina the night before, so they could not only sail the ship, but fly with it too.

Rumple stood on the shore, feeling the pulse of the island reverberating up through the soles of his boots. The magic was still shifting and changing, in a state of flux since Pan had been defeated and his stranglehold over it released. The island was humming and purring with new energy, like a car with a new engine.

He closed his eyes, letting the magic of Neverland surround him. Then he summoned back his shadow, and it came in a rush and reattached itself to him, bringing with it his dagger also. He took the dagger and thrust it into the hard-packed sand between his feet.

"Ready?" Tiger Lily asked.

Rumple nodded. Then he took the dryad's hands as she linked with her sisters in the circle and with him. "I, Rumplestiltskin Gold, call upon the five elements—wind, water, fire, air, spirit—and the spirit of Neverland, and ask to veil this place forever so that none may discover it, save for children in their dreams, and protect this place forever and ever!"

Then he concentrated, using both his own personal magic and that of the island to seal it off completely. Power filled him in a rush, flowing through him like liquid fire, then exploding outward in a rush.

His power melded with that of the dryads, as they took his titanic force and harnessed it with their own gentler magic, making it become part of the island, until it shivered with the influx of power, and then it spread out, like a great shimmering silvery blanket, tinged with blue and purple, across all of Neverland.

And as it did so, as his magic was absorbed into the land, Rumple felt something else shift and change.

Neverland's magic was an ancient one, a magic of earth and fire, formed from the primordial essence of creation, and it could not abide the taint of dark magic. That being so, it used its own force and began to change it, transmuting the darkness.

Rumple felt it as prickles across his skin then gasped as it became more pronounced. _What . . . what is happening?_

_Neverland is taking your magic and changing it, _Tiger Lily sent. _For all great magic comes with a price, Rumplestiltskin. And this . . . this is yours._

At his feet, buried in the earth, the dagger glowed red hot, as Neverland's magic was absorbed into the cursed metal.

Rumple could feel it now, he felt as though he were about to explode, sweat dripping down him, and then . . . then a cool radiance washed over him, and the heat and pain were gone. He felt reborn, renewed.

And at his feet a sapling sprouted, a most unusual tree, with silvery hard bark and beautiful purple flowers.

Rumple stared at it. "The dagger . . .?"

"Is gone and in its place is this—the guardian tree," Tiger Lily said, satisfaction in her tone. "And your curse, the curse that had haunted your steps for centuries . . . is broken, Rumplestiltskin."

He stared down at himself. "Then . . . I'm just a man again?"

The dryad shook her head. "No . . . for while the price was your dark magic, it also rewards. You have magic still . . . but more like our own now. Nature magic."

Rumple wrinkled his nose. "You mean I have to go live in a tree?"

Tiger Lily laughed. "No, silly mage! You have magic that is aligned with nature now. You can manipulate the energies of all five elements, but with especial strength for things of the earth—and its aspects—growth, change, plants, animals, healing—you are almost like a male dryad, if such a thing were possible."

"Oh," was all he could think of to say. His head was still spinning at the thought that he was now free of his curse. "Then . . . in a way . . . the prophecy was right. Peter Pan _was_ my . . . undoing."

Tiger Lily rolled her eyes. "If you wish to look upon it that way. I prefer to look at it as Neverland rewarding your for your service to her in her hour of need. You have proven a great friend, Rumplestiltskin, to me and mine. We shall always remember . . . and honor you by tending this tree, born out of your sacrifice."

Rumple blushed and for once had nothing to say.

Then Tiger Lily stepped close to him, as close as a lover, and whispered, "You had best go, before you are sent from here by your own spell. But first, I would give you a gift of my own—and know that if your heart did not belong wholly to another, I would have claimed it for myself." Then her arms wound about him and she kissed him passionately, a kiss of farewell, of longing that would forever go unfulfilled, a kiss that taunted him with dreams of what could have been, filled with the sweet seduction of dryad magic.

It lasted but an instant.

And just as Rumple found himself starting to respond to her, Tiger Lily stepped back, breaking off the kiss. "Farewell, Rumple. Tell our story to your children, and your children's children, and their children, and remember us in your legends, and in this way Neverland shall not be forgotten."

"I will."

She gave him a sad smile. "Don't forget, to tell your children, that in order to find their way here in their dreams, to follow the second star to the right and straight on till morning."

"Farewell, Tiger Lily," he lifted his hand in a wave, then transported himself onto the Jolly Roger, while Tiger Lily leaned against the sapling and waved back.

As he did so, the protection spell covered the entire island, sealing it away from mortals forever, and returning it to the magical creatures who claimed it as their haven, now and forever a place of dreams, where only children who believed in magic could venture, in short journeys while they slept.

Captain Hook called to his seamen and they cast off the lines, setting sail for the deep end of the ocean and then straight on home to Storybrooke.

A pair of green eyes watched the ship disappear, blinking as it wavered slightly in her vision. _Farewell, Rumplestiltskin. And may you remember Neverland as fondly as I shall remember you._

Then Tiger Lily went back up the beach towards her sisters, skipping lightly across the sand. There was much to do to restore the island, and it would be very busy for the next several years, she thought. There would be no time for her to dwell upon her silly attraction to a half-mortal sorcerer, and dryads did not spend time regretting what was. But perhaps, in dreams, she would make her own happy ending.

**A/N: Okay, dearies, hope you liked what happened here. I've always imagined Rumple without the dagger curse, but still keeping his magic, because I think the magic is essential to him, not as an addiction, but as a vocation. Get ready next chapter, for some very sexy Rumbelle times, as well as seeing what happens with the Lost Boys, which I felt we were cheated out of in the show. Thanks for reviewing and reading, you all rock!**


	11. Unraveled

**11**

**Unraveled**

_The Jolly Roger:_

Rumple knew that with the pegasus sail in flight, it would take a minimum of two days to get back to Storybrooke. But he found that even two days was dragging. He longed to have the journey over and done with, so he could see Belle again, and introduce her to Mouse. He had spoken privately to the boy, asking him if he would like to live with him once they returned to Storybrooke. Mouse had been, to put it mildly, astonished.

"You really want . . . _me_ to come and . . . and _live_ with you?" he'd squeaked, sounding very like the animal he was named for.

"I do," Rumple had said earnestly.

"But . . . but . . . sir, I'm . . . just . . . I'm nobody special . . . and I've got . . . weak lungs and . . . and . . . why would you want me when you could have any other Lost Boy . . .?" Mouse stammered, totally flummoxed by this odd request. "There's Thudbucket, or Wally, or . . . or Rufio . . . boys that're stronger and better at . . . at _everything_ than me . . ."

"I don't care about them, lad. That doesn't matter to me," Rumple said. "But _you_ do. It doesn't matter to me if you've got health problems . . . we can fix them back at Storybrooke, Mouse. And you're not nobody anymore . . . you saved Henry. Without you, that might not have been possible. You're a good boy, Mouse. A brave boy, and I . . . I would be proud to call you my son."

Mouse's jaw dropped. "You . . . _would_? But that's . . . that's _crazy!_"

"Then I'm insane. If . . . if you come home with me, I promise you'll want for nothing ever again. You'll never have to be afraid of starving or being beaten or . . . or anything. What do you say?"

Mouse swallowed hard. Then he slowly nodded. "Yes. I'll . . . I'll come with you."

Rumple felt a sudden glow of pride and joy at the boy's words and he reached out and hugged the youngster to him. "That's my boy! And as soon as I talk to Belle, we're going to give you a new name, since Mouse isn't a proper name for a boy, much less one who's my son."

Mouse buried his face in Rumple's shirt, embarrassed to find tears in his eyes. He didn't want to shame Rumple by crying like some big weepy baby. He blinked and blinked again until he made the tears stop, smiling through them. Then he wondered if he were dreaming . . . and if so he wanted to never wake up.

After that bit of news, Mouse stuck to Rumple like glue, a fact that wasn't lost on the others on board, especially the other Lost Boys, some of whom glared jealously at him, until Rumple noticed and sent them a death glare right back . . . and so did Bae, who considered the little boy his surrogate brother now.

"They cause you any grief, kid, you come see me," Bae told Mouse the evening of the first day on board. "And I'll straighten their little asses right out."

"You will?" Mouse's eyebrows went into his hair.

"You're darned right I will. Because nobody messes with my little brother." Then he ruffled the boy's hair playfully.

Now Mouse had two protectors and he wasn't quite sure what to make of it.

Rumple ended up being contacted by Belle that night, and reassuring her that all was going well, and he would see her some time tomorrow afternoon, if the weather held. He also informed her of his decision to foster Mouse, and asked her if she would be okay with being a surrogate mother to the little boy. Belle's answer had been an immediate yes, especially after Rumple had told her all about what the child had done and endured at the hands of Pan and the other Lost Boys, especially Felix.

With that weight off his mind, Rumple was able to sleep better, and await their arrival with thinly disguised impatience.

The others were also champing at the bit, but Henry used his time wisely to get better acquainted with Bae and even with Mouse and Rumple, encouraging the two to do fun activities together, like naming constellations and playing cards and telling stories, since Rumple knew many many fables and tales.

Similarly, Emma bonded more with Snow and Charming, and Regina with Tink and Hook struck up an odd little friendship with Wendy. Some of the Lost Boys helped out Hook's crew with the ship, though some, like Felix, kept to themselves, and glowered and sulked for the most part.

But finally the ship soared into port, and as it flew through the cloaking spell barrier, a crowd of well wishers had gathered upon the docks to welcome them home.

The ship touched down lightly upon the harbor, and Hook lowered the gangplank.

There was a frenzied cheering and clapping as the Charmings along with Emma, Henry, and Bae disembarked, and were immediately embraced by the happy townsfolk.

Tink, Wendy, and Hook came next, not bothering with anyone, as no one really knew them, until Wendy's brothers came and caught her up in a group bear hug. They were followed by most of the Lost Boys, Regina, and then came Rumple and Mouse, with Rumple resting his hand lightly on Mouse's shoulder as they walked down.

His eyes scanned the crowd, looking for one particular person, and then he saw her . . . there at the edge of the dock and just as he opened his mouth to call her, she turned and saw him.

It was as if she saw the sun come down out of the sky, so great was her joy. It shone from her face, making her glow with an otherworldly light. She did not speak, for she found her throat could not form words just yet, and instead she raced as quickly as she could, praying she didn't turn an ankle in her tiny heels, down the dock and into Rumple's waiting arms.

"Rumple! I knew I would see you again!" she whispered as she hugged him to her, thrilling to feel him in her arms at last.

"You were right," he murmured. "And I was never so glad to be wrong in my entire life." He then hugged her close, as if he would absorb her into his being, and his mouth found hers and he was kissing her, passion sweeping through him, as if she were the only woman in the world, which in a way, for him, she was.

Mouse stepped back, allowing the newly reunited couple some space, pressing against a wooden piling. He jumped a little, as he had forgotten about his lacerated bottom until it came into contact with the piling. _Stupid! Stupid idiot, Mouse!_ He scolded himself, biting his lip hard to keep from yelping and ruining the moment between Rumple and Belle. He swiped his eyes hurriedly and stepped away from the piling, waiting patiently until they remembered they had an audience again.

When a breathless and somewhat lightheaded Belle came up for air again, she glanced about and spotted the little boy standing a little ways beyond Rumple, looking shyly at the ground. "Rumple . . . is that . . .?"

Rumple released her and turned, beckoning to the boy. "Mouse, come over here and meet Belle."

The boy came, then stood there uncertainly, too shy to say a word, until Belle held out a hand and said, "Hello, Mouse. I'm Belle, and I'm very pleased to meet you."

The boy gave her an endearing shy smile, and said softly, "Hello. Rumple says . . . he says . . . you're going to be my . . . new mama . . ." Then he ducked his head, blushing, and shook her hand quickly.

"That's right," Belle assured him, her heart going out to this shy sickly child, unloved by anyone. "And we'll be our own little family—you, me, and Rumple. How's that sound?"

"Good," Mouse said, his voice almost too soft to hear.

Belle smiled, and gently embraced the little boy, giving him his first hug ever by a woman, since Tiger Lily was a dryad and therefore not the same. She looked up at Rumple. "Let's go home, Rumple. I . . . have a surprise for you."

He smiled happily at her. "And I have one for you too, sweetheart. Only . . . it might have to wait a little." He jerked his head down at the boy in her arms.

Belle nodded in understanding. She released Mouse, then wrapped her arm around Rumple, not being able to bear being separated from him just yet, her feet fairly flying over the ground as if she had wings.

Mouse skipped along beside them, thinking hopefully that perhaps, just perhaps, he had found somewhere that he belonged.

Behind them, Felix's angry glower bored into Mouse's back, and he thought jealously how unfair it was that the cowardly ass-licking little snipe had found a home, while he, First among the Lost Boys, was still standing on the docks, huddled like a reject with the rest of his brothers. What was _with_ these people?

**Page~*~*~*~Break**

"So, where is this surprise, Belle?" Rumple queried, with his arm around her, thinking that she looked deliciously tempting in her neat suede gray skirt with imprinted flowers on it that fell just to her knees, paired with silky black stockings and Armani heels. Her top was a soft gray knit and she wore a Donna Karin jacket with a flared bottom and a gathered waist with tiny gold rose buttons on it. She reminded him of a prim and proper librarian, and somehow it made her sexy as hell.

"It's at my apartment," she replied, giving him an arch look, then brushing her hair from her eyes, as it was blowing all over because of the sudden breeze that had sprung up.

"Well, we need to stop in my shop for a moment," Rumple said. "There's something I need inside."

"Okay," Belle agreed, and they halted when they reached Gold's Pawnshop.

Mouse had been rubbernecking as they walked down the street, staring in fascination and awe at all the buildings and the lights and the street itself. Having lived his whole life, that he could recall at any rate, in the jungles and forests of Neverland, this whole place was new and different for him. He stopped outside this . . . shop . . . and stuck his hands in the pockets of his rather baggy breeches, which had been made deliberately so by Rumple, shrunk from some clothes aboard the ship, and paired with his linen shirt.

"Is this . . . your home?" he asked diffidently as Rumple unlocked the door with his key.

"No. This is where I come to make deals with people," Rumple explained. "I work here, lad." He turned to Belle. "Stay here with him, dearie. I'll only be a minute." He entered the shop, and walked unerringly to a picture of a castle and a unicorn and reached behind it.

Finding what he'd come for, he tucked it away in his pocket and then left the shop.

Together, they continued down towards the clock tower and the library.

Mouse nearly fell over when they reached the elevator, which led to the apartment at the top, or the basement at the bottom. "Is this like . . . a magic box?" he stammered, glancing about wildly as it began to move.

"No. It's run by electricity, not magic," Rumple told him. "Relax. We'll be there in a moment."

The doors opened and Belle led them down a short hallway to her apartment, unlocking the door with her key. As they went inside, she explained, "This is where I live . . . most of the time . . . if I'm not at Rumple's house."

"Then you don't . . . live together?" asked Mouse, frowning. "I thought . . ."

"Not yet," Rumple said quickly. "You see, we're not . . . err . . . married yet. It's a bit complicated."

"But it works for us," Belle said quickly. Inside her little apartment, there was the table set for three, with a candelabra lit on the table, and food in covered dishes upon it.

"What's all this, dearie?" asked Rumple.

"It's your welcome home dinner," Belle laughed. "I just hope it's still hot."

Rumple snapped his fingers. "There! Now it will be."

Belle gestured to the table. "Have a seat then."

Mouse hesitated, unsure if he could tolerate sitting down. "Umm . . ."

"Is something wrong?" Belle asked, puzzled.

Mouse glanced up at Rumple nervously. "Err . . . uh . . . Rumple . . ." He didn't know if Belle knew about what had happened, and he was embarrassed to say anything if she didn't know.

Rumple understood, however, and said, "It's okay, Mouse. Belle knows." He walked over to the youngster and put a hand on the small of his back. "Can you . . . relax a wee bit, lad? I can numb you."

Mouse lowered his head and tried to concentrate, relaxing his innate shield somewhat, enough so Rumple could numb him so he could sit comfortably at the table. After about three minutes, he felt the spell take hold. "It worked, sir."

"Okay. Now you sit there, on my left, and Belle will be on my right," Rumple instructed.

As Mouse slid gingerly onto the chair, Belle removed the foil from the dishes.

There was a salad of fresh baby spinach, arugala, and radicchio, with chopped walnuts, dried cranberries, shredded carrots, onions, and whole grain croutons with Parmesan cheese and apple cider vinaigrette dressing. There was a plate of sautéed mushrooms with white wine and garlic, and a plate of rice pilaf. There was veal Oscar, lightly battered, with jumbo lump crabmeat on top with hollandaise sauce, surrounded by small shallots in a buttery sauce. There was even some semolina bread with an olive oil dipping sauce of Tuscan spices.

Two glasses of a medium-bodied fruity white sangria graced Belle and Rumple's places, while another glass of sparkling apple cider was set at Mouse's place.

"All this . . . for us?" Mouse's eyes nearly bugged out.

"You cooked enough for a feast, dearie," Rumple said, sniffing the air appreciatively.

Belle blushed, pleased. "Ruby helped some . . . especially with the dessert." She picked up her glass and said, "Here's a toast. To all of us, and our new life together." She clinked glasses with Rumple, and then with Mouse, who copied them, though he didn't understand the custom.

"I'll drink to that," Rumple said, and did.

The food was wonderful, cooked with loving attention, and it melted in their mouths.

Mouse ate small bites, since he wasn't used to eating much at once, and soon he was full.

Belle looked over at him and asked, "Do you not like it?" for it seemed as if he'd barely eaten anything.

"Oh, no, Lady Belle," Mouse shook his head. "It's so good. It's just . . . I can't . . . eat a lot . . . at once . . ."

"He was basically starved, Belle," Rumple interjected. "And living off scraps and whatever he could scrounge up when we found him."

"How terrible!" Belle whispered, her heart cracking for the poor child.

Mouse lowered his eyes to the plate. "I'm sorry."

"No . . . you have nothing to be sorry for," Belle said quickly. "You just eat as much as you can."

Mouse nodded, and picked up his fork, making himself eat a bit more, despite the fact that he was full.

Rumple put out a hand. "Mouse, stop. Before you make yourself sick. It's okay. Have you eaten enough?"

The boy nodded. "Yessir."

"All right. You're excused then," Rumple told him.

Mouse rose and walked away from the table, uncertain what to do next. Rumple had taught him on board the ship that when he was excused it meant he could do something fun, like play a game with Bae or Henry, but they weren't here, so he wandered around looking at all the things Belle had on her shelves instead.

He saw rows of things called books, which he couldn't read, and a pretty statue of a leaf carved of striated rock, there was a curved dish with some kind of colorful stones inside (they were actually M&Ms), and a long low table with some more colorful papers on it.

Finally, Mouse perched on the edge of the sofa, and picked up one of the shiny papers and began to look at the pictures.

The two adults finished their meal, chatting softly, then Belle brought out the dessert, a crème brulee with raspberries and coffee.

"This is so good, dearie, I could eat the plate," Rumple told her, sucking it off his spoon and eyeing her suggestively.

She poked him playfully in the ribs. "Rumple! Mouse is right there!"

Rumple slid his eyes slyly over and whispered, "He's nodding off over that magazine. I guess I'd better make up a bed for him on the sofa. He should really have a shower too, but . . . ah, I'll tackle that later. Along with an appointment to see Whale."

"I can make up the sofa," Belle said. "You can give him a pair of your pajamas or whatever."

"Right. And put some more salve on him," Rumple agreed, then he went over to speak to Mouse.

Ten minutes later, the Lost Boy was lying comfortably on his stomach on the sofa, which Belle had covered with a sheet and given him a soft pillow and a fuzzy blue blanket to sleep with. Rumple had switched his clothes for a pair of soft flannel plaid pajamas, making them a size too large so they didn't hurt his scourged flesh.

Mouse buried his face in the clean pillow and inhaled the soft fragrance of lemon and fresh clean linen. He had never felt so warm and cozy in his life. He snuggled into the sofa, the blanket wrapped about him, and soon drifted off to sleep.

As soon as he had determined that the boy was truly asleep, Rumple helped Belle wash the dishes and put away the leftovers in her fridge before saying, "Now, Belle, I want you to sit over at the table and close your eyes."

"Rumple, what for?"

"So I can give you your surprise," he told her seriously.

"Okay," she agreed, then went and did as he had asked.

Rumple muttered something, then pulled what he had gotten from his shop out of his pocket. He gestured and now held a ball of spun gold yarn in his hands. Taking one end, he walked over to Belle and took her left hand in his.

"Rumple, what are you doing?"

"You'll see. No peeking!" he ordered, and then he tied the string around her finger.

He stepped back several paces, then said, "Belle, open your eyes."

Her lashes swept up to reveal her brilliant indigo orbs, and she stared down at her hand, which now bore a glittering golden string around her ring finger. "Rumple, what on earth?"

"This is your surprise," he said, and unraveled some more of the ball of yarn he held in his hand. As he did so, he said in a soft voice, "Belle, a long time ago I was married, but I lost my way trying to make her happy, and to be someone I never could, and in doing so I lost my connection to her, and to myself, and became tangled up in a web of defeat and hopelessness, twisted around empty promises and a love that no longer existed." As he spoke, he unraveled more of the golden yarn. "I became the man she insisted I was—the village coward—and I wasted my life trying to please one who never loved me. When she left, I thought she had shattered my heart, but I was wrong. I did that myself, by believing the lies she told me, and blaming myself for her desertion of me and Bae."

He unraveled more yarn, leaving a glistening trail upon the floor. "It wasn't until I met you, and made that deal with you, to become my chatelaine, that my shattered heart began to have hope again. Slowly, as I came to know you, the pieces began to put themselves back together, though I was too afraid to admit to it, until I lost you again, due to fear and misunderstanding. Once again, I had lost connection with the one I loved, only to find it again when you returned to me here in Storybrooke." He let some more yarn fall from the ball in his hands. "After you did that, I promised myself something. I promised to never let you go again, and to try and use the love I felt for you to mend my shattered heart and to see the good you always insisted was there inside me. It took me a long time, for I was tangled about with my own fear and loathing, afraid of losing you, and yet afraid to let you stay lest I hurt you because I was a monster, and all I ever seemed to do was to hurt those I loved. Magic was my crutch, but I was wrong there too."

More yarn unraveled, and the ball grew smaller inbetween his fingers as he continued. "The dark magic was my addiction, but there is more than dark magic in this realm. There's also the magic of love, magic is the goodness you always insisted was there inside me, and it was that which allowed me at last to find my way out of the ocean of darkness and into the light again. I want to make a commitment to you, my beloved, to never lose my way again, to always fight for the good within me, and become the hero you deserve." He turned the ball of yarn around several times rapidly. "I am no longer the cowardly spinner, no longer the Dark One of legend. My curse is broken, my heart mended. I am, now and forever after, just Rumplestiltskin Gold, a simple magician who loves you with all my heart and soul." The last of the yarn unraveled and he slid a glittering golden eternity knot ring down the string and onto her finger. Then he went down on one knee and asked, his voice slightly hoarse from the emotion he was feeling, "Will you marry me, Belle?"

Belle stared at the ring now encircling her finger, and at the glittering string of gold that connected her to him. She smiled up at him and then she answered him in the only way she could.

"Yes! I will marry you, Rumple. For you are my heart's desire, my wicked fantasy, and I will love you until the stars crumble to dust and we are but a memory upon the Book of Life." Then she gathered the glittering yarn to her and pulled him along with it, until she could reach out and kiss him senseless.

It was the longest speech she had ever heard from him, and the most romantic, because he spoke it from the heart, without fear and without any double meanings, just the simple truth. And it was for that she loved him best of all.

Passion sizzled between them, coursing like electricity through them as they kissed and held each other. She could taste the sweetness of the crème brulee and the tartness of the raspberries on his tongue, and he in turn was intoxicated by the fruity sangria upon hers.

"Belle!" he gasped, feeling his control splinter, as she wrapped herself around him like a desert houri, sending spikes of heat through every part of his being. "I can't . . . I need . . ."

He picked her up then, she was featherlight in his arms, and half-ran into the bedroom, shutting the door with a foot. Then he concentrated and the door locked and a shield of impenetrable silence was erected about the room.

Then, and only then, did he permit her to slide down him until her toes touched the ground.

She gazed up at him, her fingers still wrapped about him, and whispered huskily, "_I_ am your undoing, Rumplestiltskin. I shall unravel you like a tightly wound ball of yarn, sorcerer mine." She nudged him towards the bed, feeling her own passion spiral out of control. Her head was spinning, drunk on the sensations he aroused in her.

"Lead me to my fate, my beautiful spinner," he murmured breathlessly, "And spin my life anew." He allowed her to push him down on the bed, the same bed where she had lain for the better part of a week, dreaming her endless fantasies and inscribing them in the Booke of Dreams.

But the Booke now lay forgotten upon the bedside table, with the pen next to it, for it was no longer needed, as the two who were once apart were now reunited in an unstoppable conflagration of shared intimacy.

He pulled her down upon his knee, and while her fingers walked up his arm in a seductive dance, his own picked up her foot in his hand, and slowly eased the black heel from it, exposing her shapely arch and toes.

His fingers caressed her foot, sliding up her and around her ankle, circling it with the barest touch of his hand, and making her gasp with pleasure. She arched backwards as his hand travelled up her leg, stroking her calf, indulging himself with the sight of her well-muscled sexy leg.

She came back and tugged on his collar, undoing his buttons on the crocodile leather vest he wore, and then tossing the garment across the room. It landed in a heap on the floor, but neither of them noticed.

His slender fingers slipped up her leg, to the waistband of her stockings, and tugged them down, peeling them off her in a slow silken glide, while he pulled her leg up onto his shoulder and then to trail kisses down her leg, teasing her with his mouth until she cried out in ecstasy.

"Rumplestiltskin!"

"Yes, dearie?" he purred, his eyes dark with desire.

His tongue flicked, taunted, tasted.

She wriggled about, her bottom rubbing across his knee, unable to keep still.

He sucked in a breath, and then she cried, "Rumplestiltskin!"

"Third time's the charm, dearie." Smirking knowingly, he resumed his seduction, sliding her stocking off her foot while simultaneously leaving a trail of fire in his wake with his kisses.

Her breath hissed between her teeth in a soft groan, her hands undoing his buttons with frenetic haste, nearly ripping them off as she pulled them free. Then she began to kiss him as well, her hands moving teasingly down his arms and over his chest, making him shudder.

Somehow his shirt ended up on the floor as well, following the other stocking, and then she set her hands to the waistband of his sexy as hell leather pants. She tugged and was met with resistance.

"Dammit!" she swore, frustrated.

"Hold on," he chuckled, and then set her on the bed and rose to his feet.

Her mouth went dry with longing when he stood before her, his hands on his hips, bare from the waist up.

Then he began to shimmy, shedding the leather in one smooth undulating motion, slowly, rotating his hips and making the leather peel off him in one sensuous rippling movement, like a snake shedding its skin.

Belle nearly self-combusted right there, watching him doing his solitary strip-tease just for her, his eyes shimmering with mischief, his mouth curled up in a smirk of sheer wicked delight.

"What's my name?"

"Rumplestiltskin!" she panted, saying his name as if it were the last mystery she needed to uncover.

He gave one last uninhibited little wriggle, and his pants were on the floor as well, leaving him clad only in his leather boots with their tiny gold chain across the side of them. Smirking even more, he put his boot on her knee. "Hello, dearie!"

She grinned back at him, and put a hand on his boot. "You wicked rogue!" she giggled, and then tugged his boot off.

He switched feet, and as she pulled off his other boot, he growled, "Is that all I am, my Belle?"

She shook her head, caressing his leg. "No. You're my sexy badass babydoll, Mr. Gold!" Then she grabbed him about the waist and tugged him on top of her.

As she fell backwards onto the bed, she cried, "Take me to bed, you sexy beast, or lose me forever!"

He laughed, straddling her, and proceeded to grant her wish, loving her with every fiber of his being, at turns wild and tender, sweet and satisfying, conjuring magic with the merest brush of his fingers against her sensitive skin, her wicked fantasy lover brought to life, until they lay spent, entwined in each other's arms, one heart, one soul, one being, their love rekindled and spun anew upon the golden spindle of fate, reborn out of the ashes of despair and darkness, never to be denied again.

As he drowsed lazily beside her, Rumplestiltskin had but one thought in his mind. _I have come home at last . . . and here I shall stay._

**A/N: Hopefully that was sufficiently sexy and romantic for all of you Rumbelle readers!**


	12. A Lost Boy No More

**12**

**A Lost Boy No More**

Mouse slept peacefully until the wee hours of the morning, when he suddenly began to have a nightmare about being tied to the whipping tree again, something that seemed to have been invented just so one of the other Lost Boys could punish him, and feeling the blackvine whip biting into him. "No . . . no . . . no . . . please . . . please . . . I'll be good . . . I swear . . ." he whimpered, tossing and turning, gasping for breath as the dream-induced terror brought on an asthma attack. He sucked in a breath, then half-yelled in an attempt to bring Rumple to help him.

Rumple had been dreaming happily of the wedding he and Belle would have in a few months, when his reverie was interrupted by a choked scream. He sat up, fully awake now, muttering, "What in hell . . .?" Hastily dragging on some pajamas which he'd tossed at the foot of the bed, and ignoring the clothes scattered on the floor, he rose and unlocked the door, going to see what was going on with Mouse.

"Mouse? What's wrong?"

He heard a choking sound coming from the sofa and went over to find the little boy all tangled up in the blanket, his eyes wet with tears and gasping for breath.

"R-Rumple . . . h-help . . ."

"Good God! Okay, Mouse. It's okay," Rumple said, going to the boy and gently holding him upright. "Calm down. Shh. Relax, son." He began to rub slow circles on his back, trying to get the child to calm down enough so he could breathe. "What happened?"

Mouse gulped, his breath wheezing in his chest. " I . . . I . . . dreamed . . ."

"Nightmares again?" Rumple murmured, thinking he'd also need to make an appointment with Archie as well as Whale. The boy had nightmares aboard the ship too, but Rumple was always there to comfort him.

"S-sorry . . ." Mouse wheezed miserably.

"No need to be sorry, son. It's not your fault." He summoned the small pouch Tiger Lily had given him of herbs that would help the child breathe easier.

"Rumple?" Belle called, coming out into the living room. "What's wrong?"

"Mouse had a nightmare and it triggered one of his asthma attacks," Rumple answered, holding the little herbal bundle against the boy's nose. "Come on, son. Breathe . . . that's right . . . again . . . it's okay . . . you're safe now . . . nothing's going to hurt you . . . take another breath . . . again . . . good job . . ."

Belle watched in amazement as the pawnbroker gently talked the boy through the wheezing and gasping, holding the child against him and simultaneously rubbing his back. No one would ever believe this, she thought wryly, that the notorious hardnosed Mr. Gold could be so gentle and compassionate to a child not even of his own blood.

Gradually, Mouse's wheezing slowed and he breathed in the medicinal herbs easier. As the airway in his bronchial passages opened again, and the constricting feeling left his chest, the boy quit gasping. His fear of dying eased and now he just felt like a miserable coward, ashamed of his weakness. He took another breath, the healing herbs easing the aching in his chest, and murmured, "M' sorry, Rumple!"

He wasn't sure what he was sorry for right then—the nightmare, getting one of his stupid fits, or waking up Rumple and Belle.

"Shh, lad. It's okay. What'd I tell you? You can wake me up any time, I'll never be angry with you." Rumple soothed.

The soft tone, spoken so understandingly, undid the child's precarious control over his emotions and suddenly he was sobbing into Rumple's shoulder, crying from relief that he wasn't about to be punished for his cowardly behavior and upset that he was bawling like a baby for no reason, yet unable to help himself.

"Rumple, what . . .?" Belle began, feeling helpless as the little boy fell apart in front of her.

Rumple held the child and rubbed his back, whispering, "Okay, son. It's okay. Go on and bawl your head off. It's okay." He looked over at Belle, continuing to comfort the distraught child. "He hasn't cried since it happened, hasn't allowed himself to, I think, so he's overdue for this."

"What? Why?" Belle asked, coming to sit down on the couch beside them, gently patting the boy's back.

"He's probably been teased and mocked for crying, is my guess. Called a coward and a baby," Rumple surmised. He stroked the boy's hair, saying softly, "It's okay to cry, Mouse. There's nothing wrong with it. Tears are your body's way of cleansing poisonous emotions from you, so you don't make yourself sick."

Mouse found this fact so amazing that he quit sobbing so much and whimpered, "They are?"

"Yes. And everybody cries, even if they don't admit it. Everyone," Rumple stressed.

Mouse sniffled and looked up at his new father. "Even you? But . . . you're a sorcerer."

Rumple's mouth twitched into a small smirk. "Aye, lad. Even me. Many times."

Mouse opened his mouth in an "O" of astonishment. "Even . . . Felix?"

"Him too," Rumple nodded. He shifted slightly, so the little boy was snuggled more comfortably against him.

"Crying isn't a weakness, Mouse," Belle added then. "It's a sign of strength. Because it shows you aren't afraid to let people see you're human, like everyone else." Her hand rubbed circles on his back.

Mouse found he liked that idea. "I . . . I dreamed I was back there . . . when Felix was . . . whipping me . . ." he admitted shyly. "And it hurt . . . so bad . . ." Just speaking of it made him choke up.

"Nobody will ever hurt you like that again!" Belle said softly, tears in her own eyes. "I promise you that!"

"And so do I," Rumple reassured him. "Because nobody hurts my son!"

Mouse thrilled to hear Rumple call him that, and more tears ran down his face. This time he didn't attempt to halt them, instead letting himself cry all the tears he had never shed, when he was a lonely miserable slave, the Last Boy, good-for-nothing, weepy, wimpy, Mouse. Because now it was okay, and he wept until he was spent, with Rumple and Belle hugging him in silent approval.

The three fell asleep like that on the sofa, and didn't wake until the middle of the morning, groggy and a little tired, but slowly healing together.

**Page~*~*~*~*~*~Break**

After some ham, egg, and cheese sandwiches on English muffins, along with some fruit and coffee for the two adults, and orange juice for Mouse, Rumple decided to tackle showing the little boy the bathtub and shower and instructing him on how to use them, as well as giving the child the first bath he'd ever had.

Rumple took the boy into Belle's bathroom, which happened to have a fully equipped bathtub and separate shower unit, rather luxurious by apartment standards, and showed Mouse the wonders of indoor plumbing.

"How's it do that?" was the first question out of the kid's mouth when Rumple showed him the way the water ran out of the faucet.

"It's not magic, it's something called science," the older man explained. "And it's complicated, so don't worry about how it works, just concentrate on learning to use it." He demonstrated the hot and cold taps, on the sink and the tub, showing Mouse how to find a good temperature so it didn't hurt his cuts. "If it's too hot, son, just adjust the cold water," he told the boy.

While the tub was filling up with warm water, the sorcerer showed Mouse how to brush his teeth, the little boy loved the flavor of the toothpaste, and happily brushed until Rumple told him to stop, before he brushed his teeth right off.

"Could I do that?" he cried, half-alarmed, halting with toothpaste running down his chin.

"No, of course not, silly boy," Rumple chuckled. "It was a quip. Now rinse out your mouth and take off your pajamas. The water's nice and warm by now."

Mouse obeyed, then wriggled out of his pajamas.

Rumple grimaced upon viewing the poor boy's back end and reminded himself once more to call Dr. Whale as soon as possible. He helped his new son into the tub, saying, "Too hot?"

Mouse shook his head, an expression of sheer joy spreading across his face. "No! It's . . .wonderful! It's _warm_!" To someone accustomed to taking a quick wash in freezing cold streams in the early morning, this was like paradise. He slid down into the water. "Ohh!" He sighed, it was like heaven!

"Does that sting your cuts?" Rumple asked, concerned.

Mouse shook his head. Maybe a little, at first, but the sting was quickly gone and the water felt so good he wished he was a fish.

"Okay. Let's get you washed up," Rumple said, and rolled up his sleeves. He pulled a container of coconut scented bodywash to him and showed the boy how to put some on a scrubby sponge and scrub himself all over. "I'll do your back, son, but you can wash everywhere else. I want you to scrub good, till your skin is all pink like a lobster's."

Mouse did, then stood up so Rumple could gently wash his back and bottom, using a soft washcloth dipped into the now soapy water. It stung slightly, and the child squirmed. "Oww!"

"Sorry, but I have to clean these cuts, otherwise they'll get infected. Stand still."

Mouse bit his lip and did as he was told, blinking tears back, until Rumple was finished.

"Done! There's my brave lad," his father praised. "Okay. I'm going to wash your hair next, and then we're going to run some fresh warm water in here and I want you to soak in the water for about twenty minutes."

"Yes, sir."

"Rumple, Mouse," the sorcerer corrected gently. "Or, maybe Papa, when you feel comfortable."

Mouse just nodded, not sure yet about calling the sorcerer that, since he still found it rather unbelievable Rumple could want him as his son.

After Rumple washed his hair, he left the boy alone to soak in the warm water, adding some milk and honey bubble bath, figuring it would help the boy to do so.

Belle met him in the kitchen, making a cup of tea. "Well? How did it go?"

"Not bad. I have him soaking in there. But I need to call Whale, get him checked out, he needs an inhaler at the very least. I probably should make an appointment with Archie also, get him some therapy for those nightmares and whatever else he's endured." He picked up the phone and dialed the two numbers.

Archie said he could fit the boy in at the end of the week, as he was booked with seeing the other Lost Boys, and recommended Gold give the child some herbal tea to help reduce stress and sleep and encourage the boy to talk a bit about his life on Neverland until his appointment. "It's important to establish trust between you," Archie said. "That's the key, I think, to helping him defeat these nightmares."

Gold nodded and told him about the episode this morning, and the therapist said that was a good start.

After that, he called Whale's office, and made an appointment later on that day with him, explaining the situation and Whale assured him Mouse would get the best of care.

That done, Rumple turned to Belle and said, "You know, we really need to give him a new name. I think that'll go a long way to convince him that he's no longer a Lost Boy, but our son."

"I've been thinking about that, Rumple." Belle said. "And here's what I came up with," she showed him a list of ten names she had picked out. "I know how important names are to you, so I wanted to see what you thought of these before we picked one."

Rumple examined the list. "Well, it's traditionally the mother who chooses a child's name when they're born, at least it is where I came from."

"It was in my kingdom as well," Belle asserted.

Rumple perused the list. "I like a lot of these, but I think your first choice is the best."

Belle smiled. "I figured you might. I just hope Mouse will like it also."

"I don't think you need to worry, Belle. He'll like it just because you gave it to him, and someone finally thought him important enough to give him a real name, like every other little boy," Rumple told her earnestly.

After drinking a cup of tea, Rumple said he needed to get Mouse some clothes and went to alter some of his own to fit the child, summoning some soft trousers, a gray T-shirt, a blue and white checkered plaid long-sleeved shirt, socks, and a pair of silky boxers, all shrunk down to fit the boy, but leaving the boxers and trousers slightly larger than necessary. He put the clothes in the bedroom, then went to see how Mouse was doing.

He found the little boy playing with the bottle of bodywash, and smiled as he watched the child for a few moments before calling him to come out. After applying another coating of salve, Rumple gave Mouse his "new" clothes.

"We're going to go shopping for a whole new wardrobe for you, but for now, you can wear these."

"Wow! They're so soft!" the boy hugged them, marveling at the texture. And then again at how they were actually his . . . clothing without rips or tears, that didn't smell unpleasant, like mildew and dirt. These smelled like . . . sunshine and rain.

After getting dressed, Mouse followed Rumple into the den, where Belle was sitting reading a book. She looked up and saw the boy, smiling as she did so. "You look very handsome in your new clothes," she said, thinking that if she didn't know better, she would think Mouse really _was_ related to Rumple. "Come and sit here, Mouse." She patted the couch next to her.

The boy came and gingerly sat down.

Belle waited until he was comfortable before saying, "Now, I'm sure Rumple has told you that we wish you to consider yourself our son, and no longer a Lost Boy. But in order for you to truly do so, we want to give you a new name."

"Really? Peter said . . . he always said I wasn't . . . strong enough or smart enough for any name 'cept Mouse."

Belle scowled. "Well, Peter was wrong. You certainly are deserving of a name, like every other boy!" She said firmly. "In my kingdom, it's tradition for a mother to name her child, unless she is too ill, and then the father does so. Your name is important, because it tells people who you are, and therefore Rumple and I have picked a special name for you, so everyone will know that you belong with us." She gently took the boy's face in her hands and said, "It's custom for a mother to give their child a kiss of welcome before she says his or her name." She bent and kissed Mouse on the forehead, saying, "Welcome, Mathias Gold, son of Belle and Rumplestiltskin Gold, to our family."

The little boy who once was a Lost Boy named Mouse just sat there, stunned. _I have a name now. A real name._

"The name Mathias means "a gift from God", "Rumple explained, after also giving him a welcome kiss. "We chose that name because we consider you a gift to us. We hope you like it, son."

Mathias smiled then, a sweet brilliant smile, then his arms went round Rumple's neck first, hugging the sorcerer hard. Then he turned to Belle and hugged her too. "Thank you . . . Mama and Papa," he said, his eyes shining.

"No, thank _you_, Mathias, for becoming my little boy," Belle said, and there were tears in her eyes as she hugged him back.

**Page~*~*~*~*~Break**

Belle and Rumple went with Mathias to his appointment with Dr. Whale, staying with the child the entire time Whale was examining him, reassuring and explaining things so he didn't become frightened.

Mathias was wary and afraid at first, but Rumple was there to reassure him, and Whale was both professional and compassionate, saying to Rumple that Mathias' lacerations were extremely well-healed for being only a few days old. "Whatever was in that salve you put on is incredible," Whale said.

"Dryad magic," Rumple remarked.

Belle bit her lip, for she had never seen the cuts until then, and thought they looked terrible, but she supposed that was because she had never seen anyone flogged before, and wondered how on earth anyone could do such a hateful thing to this little boy, who was so gentle and sweet.

"I'm going to give you a script for some silvadeen cream," Whale said. "That's one of the strongest medicines we have, it's used on burn victims, and should help heal up those lacerations right away. I'll give you enough for a month, but you can keep using that other salve till it runs out. I'm also going to give you a ten-day course of antibiotics for him. Make sure he takes them twice a day, with food, otherwise he'll get a stomachache."

"But there's no infection?" Rumple asked.

"No. But better safe than sorry," Whale said. "Here's another script for his inhaler, and you might want to invest in a nebulizer as well, if he gets a really bad attack. But you know, it's very possible he'll grow out of it, a lot of children do. Until then, though, no rough contact sports, or prolonged periods of extensive exercise. I'm also going to suggest you start him on some chewable vitamins, I'll need to draw some blood to see if he has any deficiencies, but in the meantime, vitamins are good." He turned back to his patient, who was lying still as a stone upon the exam table. "Mathias, buddy, can you sit up for me? I need to listen to your heart."

The boy shifted, aided gently by both Whale and Rumple. "My heart?" he asked, quirking an eyebrow. "How can you do that?"

"With this. It's called a stethoscope," Whale said, and showed him it.

Mathias examined the odd contraption curiously. "How's it work?"

"Like this," Whale let him put on his stethoscope, and listen to his heartbeat, Rumple's heartbeat, and Belle's heartbeat.

The little boy was fascinated. "That's so cool!"

Whale grinned. "It is, isn't it? Now let's hear your heartbeat." He took the stethoscope back and listened to Mathias' heartbeat. He then patted the boy's leg. "That's good. You've got a strong heart, young man."

"I do?"

"Yup. Strong as an ox," Whale assured him. "Okay. Now, I have to draw your blood, son, and it might hurt a bit, but if you don't kick or bite me, you'll get a chocolate bar."

The boy looked alarmed, then said, "Okay, sir," trying to be brave.

Whale turned away and called his nurse, pulling on another pair of gloves as he did so. The nurse gently tied a rubber string around Mathias' arm and had the child make a fist, holding a rubber ball. "Okay, sweetie, now look at that while the doctor takes your blood."

"Why do you need my blood? Are you gonna drink it?"

Whale shook his head. "Good Lord, no! I'm not a vampire, kid! There's some tests I need to do on it, to tell me how healthy you are and stuff. Now just stay still." He brought the syringe over and said, "You might feel a sharp pinch, but don't move, okay?"

"It'll be over in a second, son," Rumple said, putting a hand on Mathias' shoulder.

Whale carefully inserted the needle. "A little pinch. Good! There we go!"

Mathias didn't even flinch. He stared at the red blood as the doctor put it in a plastic vial, not understanding what the big deal was. After being beaten half to death, this was nothing! And kids actually made a fuss over _this_?

"Okay, done." Whale finished drawing the blood and put it on the tray, removing the blue rubber tie around the boy's arm. "You were very good. Martha, get him a Hershey bar. The last kid I had screamed bloody murder and kicked me in the balls . . . err . . . sorry, Belle . . . forgot you were there," Victor coughed, slightly embarrassed.

"Not my son," Rumple said, proudly.

"Here, sweetie," the nurse handed Mathias a Hershey bar.

He took it, then looked at Rumple. "What is it?"

"It's candy. You'll like it," his father said. "Now let's get dressed."

After Mathias was wearing his clothes again, they left the doctor's office, stopping by the pharmacy to pick up his inhaler and medicine. Then Belle said she was hungry and Gold suggested they stop by Granny's to eat.

As they drove to the diner, Mathias wondered what had become of the rest of the Lost Boys.

**Page~*~*~*~*~Break**

Felix scrubbed dishes in hot soapy water in the industrial sink in the back in the kitchen of Granny's diner. He was unaccustomed to doing this much manual labor, but he soon found that whining and complaining got him nothing but another stack of dirty dishes to wash . . . and in the diner, it seemed like there was _always_ dishes to wash! Or pots to scrub, or trash thrown out in the dumpster out back.

Felix hated it, but had no choice, since the old broad called Granny Lucas had laid down the law quite firmly to him yesterday, when he had been brought to the diner after hours, as she had been one of several families who had volunteered to take in one of the Lost Boys. Others had been Marco, the Darlings, Doc, a few fishermen, and shockingly, Hook, who had taken Rufio, the Lost Boy who was good with a sword and liked ships. There were still a few who remained at the convent until families had chosen them, but Felix had been sent to the Lucas women after a few hours, and at first had thanked the gods, since he couldn't stand the nuns.

"I'm going to live with the old broad and the hot chick? Talk about your mixed blessings," he'd said after getting out of Grumpy's truck and being introduced to the two women. Maybe this wouldn't be too bad after all.

Granny just rolled her eyes. "All right, boy, you may have been used to ruling over little boys, but we don't have time for that kind of nonsense here. You'll pull your weight and show respect."

"Yeah, yeah old broad," Felix snorted, turning away. Like he'd ever take orders from an old fart like her! Maybe the hot chick now . . . that'd be a different story . . . he'd never understood why Peter had never permitted girls on the island, except when he'd kidnapped Wendy. Maybe he'd been too young to appreciate them, Felix thought, smirking as he eyed Ruby.

THWACK! An arrow pierced the seam of his shirt at the top of the shoulder and skewered his shirt to the wall.

"Hey! What the . . .?" Felix gasped, trying to pull free, but he was stuck fast.

Granny loaded her crossbow with another arrow, saying sternly, "R-E-S-P-E-C-T, boy. No more 'old broad.' It's Mrs. Lucas until you've earned the right to call me Granny."

Felix gulped hard. "Yes, ma'am!" _Holy shit! The old broad . . . err . . . Mrs. Lucas nearly skewered me!_

Then Ruby had added, "That's right, young man. And you can keep your eyes, hands, and comments to yourself, or you'll be getting rabies shots for a year."

Felix flinched, and quickly revised his former thoughts upon receiving a glare from Ruby. "Yes, ma'am!" he said swiftly, thinking woefully, _what have I gotten myself into?_

That quickly became apparent the next morning, after Ruby had hauled his ass out of bed at the flipping crack of dawn, though he did have a decent breakfast of pancakes, sausage, eggs, and crispy home fries along with coffee before Granny marched him over to the diner (which was just next door) and had him help sweep and mop the floor while Ruby set up the tables and she fired up the grill. At precisely six-thirty, the diner was open for business, and several regulars had already come in, getting their food and coffee fix before going off to work.

Felix, meanwhile, was given an apron and told to start scrubbing the dishes, and that was what he'd been doing non-stop (or at least it felt that way) since seven AM, and it was now 1:30. Well, he had been given a break for lunch at twelve, but then it was back to the dishes, and he was beginning to wish everybody would just go the hell home and cook their own dinner. He grumbled under his breath and longed for the days of lounging about in his treehouse while that little snot Mouse cooked and cleaned.

**Page~*~*~*~*~Break**

Belle, Rumple, and Mathias met Bae, Henry, and Emma as they entered the diner, and were greeted warmly by the rest of their little family. Mathias proudly told them his new name and showed Henry his inhaler. "So's I don't turn blue and pass out again," he explained.

"That's good. Here, look at this," Henry pulled out the Once Upon a Time book from his backpack. "See? You're in here, on this chapter." He flipped to the chapter entitled The Lost Boys of Neverland, and showed Mathias his picture and the small three paragraphs the book had in it about him. "And look, you're in this part too," and he flipped to another part detailing the rescue mission and showed Mathias the rest of the story.

"What's it say?" he asked the older boy.

"That's right, you can't read yet, can you?" Henry asked.

"No," Mathias said, looking rather upset.

"Don't worry. Belle will teach you," Henry told him confidently. Then he began to read the story to the younger boy.

Meanwhile, Belle showed Emma and Bae her engagement ring, and they both congratulated the new couple. Belle was beaming and happily showed the ring to Ruby when she came by to take their order, and the waitress smiled and hugged her afterwards. "You'd better treat her right, Gold," she mock-growled. "Or else!"

Gold looked amused. "No need to bare your fangs at me, Red. I assure you, Belle will be treated like the queen she is." Then he placed his order for a cheeseburger and onion rings with extra pickles.

"How about you, sweetie?" Ruby called over to Mathias.

Mathias looked up, puzzled. "Uh . . . hi."

"She wants to know what you want to eat," Henry prompted.

"Umm . . ." he looked over at his papa for help.

"Give him what I'm having," Gold told Ruby. "By the way, say hello to my new son, Mathias. Mathias, this is Ruby Lucas, she's Granny's granddaughter."

Ruby beamed at the shy little boy. "Aww, he's adorable, Gold! Looks like you got the pick of the litter, huh? Granny and I have one of the Lost Boys too, only he ain't nearly so cute. Fact is, he's got an attitude bigger than the side of a barn, and that's saying something. Name's Felix."

Mathias shrank back in his chair.

Gold glared at Ruby, then said frostily, "Remind me that I need to have a word with that boy after lunch, Ruby."

Ruby blinked. "Uh . . . why? What's he done?"

Belle beckoned her over and whispered in her ear angrily.

Ruby looked shocked. "Sure thing, Gold. You can go back after you eat. I'll make sure he's available." She smiled over at Mathias. "Hey, sweetie, don't you worry about that old rat. Granny and I'll keep him in line, and if we can't, your papa will, sure enough."

"And so will I," added Bae.

Ruby winked, then said, "Be right back with your drinks."

Henry and Mathias spent half their time before the lunch arrived looking at the Once Upon a Time book, and the other half of the time with Henry explaining things like the lights and the vending machines and cars to Mathias. The little boy, once he got over his initial shyness, was actually very inquisitive and bright, and chattered happily to Henry and anyone else at the table while he nibbled his cheeseburger and fries.

As before, Mathias only ate about a quarter of what he was given, and Belle said they could wrap the rest up to take home and he could eat it a few hours later. Whale had recommended they have her son eat small meals a few times a day, until his stomach adjusted to having regular meals again. He also suggested a brand of protein shake as well, to be drunk as a snack.

Gold signaled Ruby to bring their check, which he put on his tab, then he rose and followed her back into the kitchen. He had some pointed things to say to the former leader of the Lost Boys, he thought, his jaw tightening.

Felix looked up when Ruby appeared at the door. "Hey, when's my next break, Rubes? I been slaving here all day."

"Not yet. First I've got someone here who wants to see you," she said, then stepped aside to let Gold through.

Felix looked hopeful . . . until he saw who was standing there. Then he felt his stomach drop and he muttered. "Aww, shit! Not you again, old man!"

**A/N: So what do you think Rumple will say to Felix? Thanks to cynicsquest for suggesting who Felix should live with! And who likes Mouse's new name? My niece thought of it. Also, treat this as if the Lacey part never occurred, though Belle regains her memories by using Blue's potion eventually**


	13. Out of the Shadows

**13**

**Out of the Shadows**

"Yes, me again, _boy_," Gold drawled, his eyes suddenly hard as winter frost. "I'm only going to say this once, and I won't repeat myself, so you listen up, and listen good." One slender finger stabbed at the former First Boy of Neverland.

Felix tilted his head, half-mockingly, then sneered, "Okay, okay, old man. I'm listening."

"No, you're not. But I guarantee that by the time I'm done, you will be," Gold declared, his tone low but with a terrible calmness, the sort of calm that precedes a natural disaster, had Felix only known. "I've come to talk to you about what happened on Neverland, how you abused and tormented a little boy who is now under my protection. When you knew him, you called him Mouse, and treated him no better than a piece of trash, or a mongrel dog to catch a kick in the ribs, or a cuff when things didn't go your way. He was your whipping boy. Your slave. But no longer. Now he's my _son,_ Mathias Gold, and if you dare do anything to him, Felix, here's what will happen to you."

Gold's eyes suddenly went flat, like flint, and he spoke in a soft voice, but its tone was no less deadly for being so quiet. His whole stance altered, so that he seemed suddenly taller, darker, more menacing. Suddenly the benevolent debonair businessman transformed into a boogeyman out of childhood nightmares, the one whispered about on late winter nights around the fire, the one your mother warned you about when you went deep into the woods foraging as dusk fell across the land, a creature of darkness and shadow, waiting to devour you.

It was then that Felix felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up and a chill run down his backbone. It was then that he remembered that Mr. Gold was not only the richest man in Storybrooke, but the former Dark One. Frozen to the marrow of his bones, terrified the way he had never been in all of his life, the former First Boy remained still like a mouse who senses a hawk circling, knowing that his life could end in a mere second.

Gold continued. "I have known people like you my whole life—bullies who think their arrogance gives them the right to abuse and mock those whom they regard as inferior, who think their strength gives them the right to torment and hurt those smaller or weaker than they, who use that to lord it over others, as if that somehow makes them better. But I learned that it doesn't make them any better than the next man. All it does is make them cowards! Yes, cowards!" Gold spat. "For it takes no courage to hurt someone who can't fight back, whether a child or a cripple. Because people like you know your victim is helpless and so you're safe from retribution. Safe in the knowledge that you don't have to worry about someone beating you down in a fair fight. And there is _nothing_ more cowardly that that, boy."

Gold advanced upon the boy, and Felix backed away, whimpering slightly, until he fetched up against the sink, his back pressing against the stainless steel basin. Trapped with nowhere to go.

"Please, Mr. Gold—"

"Please, Mr. Gold!" Rumple mocked loudly, a sneer curling his handsome face. "And how many times did Mouse say _please_ when you were whipping him? How many times did he beg you to stop . . . and you just kept on . . . because you could? How many, boy?"

"I . . . I don't know! I . . . I can't remember!" Felix babbled, panic showing in his eyes.

"You can't remember," Gold hissed. "And do you know why? Because you didn't care! You didn't care that you were brutalizing a little child for no other reason than you needed something to blame after your camp was invaded. Because to you, he didn't matter any more than a pebble in your shoe. Isn't that true?"

Felix trembled. "Uh . . . yes . . ."

"What was that? I said, _isn't that true_?"

"Yes, sir!" the Lost Boy whined, shaking now for it seemed Gold's eyes were suddenly more reptilian than human.

"And _that_ is why I changed your blasted whip into a viper that bit you. So you could know a bit of the pain and suffering you caused my son!" Gold growled. "But even that wasn't enough . . . and now I'm here to tell you something else. You are going to leave my son alone. You are not to speak to him, or look at him, or even _breathe_ around him. And if I catch you so much as giving him a cross look, you had best find the nearest portal and throw yourself into it, because I shall hunt you down, no matter where you run, no matter where you hide . . . and I shall transform you into a hideous beast with ten thousand tentacles and pulsing red veins erupting out of graying skin with hooks for hands and lantern-like eyes and four legs like a centaur. People shall run in terror at the sight of you, but there will be some who hunt you, for you shall belch rubies and cough up emeralds and shit diamonds. And so they will all wish a piece of you, and you shall be hunted down and skinned, for your hide will be worth a kingdom's ransom. And even when skinned, your torment shall not end, for you shall recall every horrible moment of it, and be forced to tell your tale over and over, every night, so that all may know the shame and loathing of the coward known as Felix, who tortured and abused a little child, and this was your punishment!"

Felix went paler than new milk, for there was something dangerous in Gold's eyes now, something that whispered that if Felix dared to disregard his instructions, he would take great pleasure in making his prediction come true. Felix swallowed, for his mouth had gone drier than a bone without marrow, and he found himself sweating and shaking as if he was stricken with a deadly plague.

And its name . . . was Rumplestiltskin.

"Am I understood, boy?" the former imp demanded, with a slight evil giggle at the end of the query.

Felix nodded frantically.

"What was that? I can't hear you!"

Felix moistened his tongue then said, his voice quivering, "Yes sir, Mr. Gold, sir! I understand!" Tears stood in his eyes, so frightened was he of the vision Gold had painted with his cold declaration.

"And you'll leave Mathias alone?"

"Yes! Yes! I promise!" Felix whimpered. "Just please don't hurt me! I don't want to be a hideous beast!"

Gold stabbed his finger into Felix's chest. "Then _stay away from my son!_ Or else a disaster beyond your wildest imaginings shall occur!"

Felix made a sound similar to a deflated pig bladder, a kind of whimpering petrified whine.

Gold drew back then, and gave the boy a look of utter disgust. "And clean yourself up, you blubbering baby!" he said coldly, then spun around and stalked out.

Felix looked down at himself . . . and went scarlet in shame, for there was a wet stain on the front of his pants.

There came a snort, and Felix looked up and saw Granny glowering at him.

The old woman just looked at him, then said, "I heard every word, boy. You'd best do what he said . . . or I'll hand you over to him . . . after I strip the hide off of you myself. So better remember that . . . and start getting a new attitude and changing your ways. Now go get changed."

Then she tucked a dishtowel in her apron and marched out of the kitchen. There were precious few times when she agreed with Gold, but for once she was glad that Rumplestiltskin had put the fear of the Dark One into that miscreant. It was a start, at least, to letting the boy realize that he wasn't the cock of the walk anymore, and his actions had consequences, and he could no longer hide behind the dictates of Peter Pan.

Felix went and bolted for the back door, heading back to the house to get changed, and thinking to himself, _Damn, but that is one badass motherfucking sorcerer!_

**Page~*~*~*~*~Break**

_Gold's Victorian:_

Now that she was engaged to Rumple, Belle decided to move back to Gold's house, and with the help of her fiancée and her new son, took almost everything from her small apartment back there. By then the whole town knew of her changed circumstances, and for once there was no nasty gossip surrounding her choice, and even her father, Maurice, had nothing derogatory to say about Mr. Gold.

She had gone to his shop, Game of Thorns, to show him her engagement ring after she had moved back into Gold's Victorian, and he had looked at the ring, looked at her, and said, "Does he truly . . . make you happy, Belle?"

"He does, Father. He's not the monster you've always thought him. He's changed. And he loves me and I love him. I've come here to share the news of our engagement . . . and I hope you will give me away at my wedding in a few months."

Maurice slowly nodded. "If . . . if that is what you wish . . . then I shall try and be civil to him . . . for your sake."

"That's a start, then. Oh, and we'd like you to come over and meet our son, Mathias," Belle added.

"Your son?" he repeated, looking flummoxed.

"Yes. Rumple and I have adopted one of the Lost Boys, a child named Mouse. Well, that was his name, before I gave him a real one." Belle told him eagerly.

"How old is the boy?"

"Umm . . . Rumple thinks maybe seven. He's such a sweet inquisitive boy, Father! Do say you'll come and meet him . . . your grandson."

"Why don't you bring him by the shop, Belle?" Maurice suggested. "I think . . . I'd be more comfortable if he came here. That house . . . has always . . . seemed like some rich showpiece to me."

Belle considered. She could see why her father was intimidated. "Okay. I'll bring him to meet you . . . say next Wednesday?"

"That would be fine. And . . . congratulations," Maurice added.

Belle beamed at him. "Thank you, Father! I think . . . with time . . . you'll see that Rumple is a good man . . . and he was the right choice for me."

Then she left the shop, her heart a thousand times lighter.

**Page~*~*~*~*~Break**

But if things were going smoothly for Belle and Rumple at last, the same could not be said for their new son. Despite having a wonderful new home, with his own room, and a whole wardrobe of new clothes (all soft and fresh-smelling), shoes, and even puzzles, games, and toys, as well as a TV and a Blue Ray player, Mathias still had a hard time accepting that this was all real. A part of him was still convinced this was but a dream, and he would someday wake and find himself back on Neverland, still a slave, still just wimpy Mouse.

His welts were healing with daily applications of both Tiger Lily's salve and the silvadeen cream Whale had prescribed, and Belle made certain he took his antibiotics twice a day with food, to prevent infection. Mathias didn't like them much, as even with food they tended to make him feel ill, but he knew they were necessary and so put up with the nagging upset stomach and the runs they gave him.

Until Rumple discovered his plight one evening while they were playing checkers, and the poor boy bolted from the table and into the bathroom. After some gentle questioning, the pawnbroker learned the antibiotics were making the boy sick, and called Whale the next morning to ask if they could be changed to a milder dose, and Whale switched the prescription and recommended Gold give the boy some probiotics along with the antibiotic and once he had done so, Mathias found he could tolerate the medicine much better.

"Next time, son, _tell_ me or your mama if you're sick like this," Gold had reprimanded mildly. "So we can help you."

"I . . . I didn't want to be a bother," Mathias said, ashamed.

"You aren't. If we don't know you're sick, then we can't help you," Gold stressed. "Okay?"

"Okay, Papa," Mathias said obediently. He would remember, but he still felt odd having someone looking out for him . . . and thinking that it actually mattered if he were feeling well or not.

And Rumple and Belle had already done so much for him, more than he felt he deserved, and he didn't feel right asking for anything else. The inhaler they'd gotten he used any time he felt his chest getting tight, or when he found it hard to breathe because of nerves, which usually only happened after one of his nightmares.

The kindly Dr. Hopper had recommended a night light and some special tea before bed, and Mathias had that and stories from both his parents before he fell asleep, yet still he had nightmares, and woke shuddering and gasping almost every night. Despite Archie's insistence that he tell his parents whenever that happened, Mathias mostly kept silent about it. He didn't want to disturb his parents' rest, or make them think he was a coward crybaby afraid of the dark.

One morning, a little over a week after Mathias had come to Storybrooke, the boy woke shaking from a dark dream where Pan had shoved him out into the middle of a deep lake and bid him swim back home, knowing full well that Mathias couldn't do anything so vigorous, lest his throat close up and he drown. And Mathias had begged him to please get him, and Pan had laughed and yelled, "Play the game, Mouse!"

Mathias had woken up feeling the water close over his head, and had to take a breath of the inhaler to stop an attack, and calm himself down. He huddled in his bed, with its sleek sheets colored a soothing indigo blue and the special blanket his papa had made just for him, out of gold and green yarn knitted in a star pattern. His hands gripped the blanket and he glanced wildly about the room, with its flatscreen TV and velvety beanbag chair the closet with his clothes arranged neatly and shoes, the dresser with his figurines of dragons, knights, wizards, and mythical creatures on it, and his desk with paper, colored pencils, a sketchbook, notebooks, and some workbooks on it, since Belle was teaching him to read and write.

He looked out the window, partially covered by a midnight blue swag, and saw it was barely light out, the time of the morning he was accustomed to waking at when he was in Neverland, to get the fire going and cook breakfast before the other boys awoke.

He looked at the little clock, shaped like a wizard's hat, on his nightstand, next to the little nightlight that revolved around, it was a globe with the constellation Pegasus on it, and saw it was only 4 AM.

It was too early to get up, both his mama and papa had stressed he was to sleep until at least seven o'clock, but the dream had frightened him so much that he couldn't fall asleep again. He buried his head in the pillow, trying to go back to sleep, but the horrible feeling of drowning made him unable to do so, and after another puff of his inhaler, he found he couldn't stay in bed any longer, and crawled out of his cozy nest and stood on the hardwood floor.

Gold had promised to get a carpet in the room, which had once been an office, until Mathias had come, but hadn't gotten around to it yet, and the boy felt it was unnecessary—he'd made do with the ground before he'd come here, and any floor was sheer luxury.

It was a little chilly, but the former Lost Boy barely noticed it as he padded like a ghost down the stairs and into the main room of the house. He walked into the kitchen and started to pull out a pot, intending to make breakfast, then he noticed a faint smudge upon the cream colored tile.

Dirt.

And if there was one thing he knew how to do, it was clean.

He recalled Belle showing him some cleaning products beneath the sink one day as she filled a bucket and mopped the floor after a can of sticky soda had exploded all over it, falling out of the fridge.

Mathias went to the small closet and found the bucket, and also something called a mop and a broom and dustpan.

Though neither of them had said anything, Mathias knew he should repay them for buying him new clothes and giving him a room and food to eat. So he began sweeping and mopping the kitchen floor, as was proper for a servant boy.

Since he couldn't sleep, he might as well work, he thought, and soon had finished the kitchen floor and moved on into the foyer.

**Page~*~*~*~*~*~Break**

Two and a half hours later, Belle and Rumple woke, since Rumple usually got up early to open up his shop by seven, and Belle wanted to cook him breakfast before he left. While Rumple shaved in the bathroom, Belle pulled on a pink terry robe and slippers and went downstairs to put on some coffee.

She found some of the lights on and the floor shining from being polished and everything in the kitchen sparkled, as if it had been scrubbed recently. She rubbed her eyes, sure she smelled Pine Sol and lemon Pledge.

_What's going on?_

She looked around, and walked into the foyer, noting it too was sparkling clean. Then she went into the den, and saw that everything had been straightened, including all the books beside the entertainment system, and Rumple's basket with yarn had been . . . neatly arranged by color and his needles carefully inserted into his latest project, a hat for Mathias, which lay on top of the yarn balls.

She frowned, thinking that if she didn't know better, she would assume that some good spirit or helpful brownie had come and cleaned the house while they slept!

She heard a faint noise coming from the dining room, where Gold's curio cabinet was, and went to see what had made it, praying there wasn't a robber in the house. On the way there, she grabbed a rolling pin from the rack on the kitchen wall, it being the first thing she saw.

She crept into the room . . . and saw Mathias dusting like a fiend, wielding a soft chamois cloth and a featherduster, dusting the inside of the curio cabinet and carefully polishing all the collectibles Rumple had within it before placing them back inside.

"My goodness! Mathias, did you clean the whole downstairs!" Belle gasped.

The little boy jerked up at her voice, startled because he hadn't thought anyone awake yet, and his hand, which had been cradling the blue willow teapot from Rumple's favorite tea set (the one with the chipped cup), slipped and the delicate white and blue porcelain with 24-karat gold around the handle and the rim plummeted onto the floor and shattered.

"No!" Mathias hissed, horrified.

He stared down at the teapot, now broken into a million little bits and pieces, and he knew he was in serious trouble for touching it . . . and worse . . . breaking it. Belle had told him the story of the tea set and he knew Rumple was going to be furious that he had broken the teapot.

He put a hand over his mouth, gasping.

"Mathias! Don't move!" Belle ordered. "There's glass all over, you could cut yourself. Stay still and I'll get a broom and a dustpan." All she could think of right then was saving the boy from getting a nasty cut in his foot, since he had forgotten to put on his slippers again and was barefoot.

She hurried away to find the broom and dustpan, leaving Mathias standing there, shocked.

The little boy's eyes filled with tears as he stared at the wreckage, and he felt his asthma suddenly flare up. As his breathing became impaired and he thought woefully of how angry Rumple would be with him, he heard his papa come down the stairs and call, "Belle? What was that noise? I thought I heard something break," as he entered the kitchen.

Dread curled within him and the little boy hopped deftly over the broken shards and fled up the stairs. He needed to use his inhaler and also to prepare himself for the wrath of his father sure to fall upon him for destroying his precious teapot.

"Rumple, I found Mathias up and he was . . . _cleaning_ the whole house!" Belle told him as she searched for the broom in the kitchen closet. "He was dusting the curio cabinet and I . . . startled him and he dropped a teapot, that was what you heard breaking."

"He was what? Cleaning the house?" Rumple repeated. "What for?"

Belle shrugged. "I . . . don't know. I didn't have time to ask before he dropped the teapot and there was glass everywhere and he was barefoot, so I went to get the broom, I didn't want him to cut himself . . ."

"Let me see, dearie," Gold said calmly, then went into the dining room. "Mathias, lad, what happened?"

Only to find the remains of the teapot all over the floor and the little boy was gone.

Belle came and stared in dismay. "Oh, Rumple! Where did he go? I told him not to move."

"Don't worry, Belle, about the teapot. I'll fix it with magic," Rumple told her. "Right now though, I'd better see where the boy went. He's probably hiding somewhere, afraid I'm going to be angry with him."

"The poor thing! Rumple . . . you're not . . . are you?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Of course not! It's just a teapot."

He turned and made his way upstairs, calling softly, "Mathias, where are you?"

Mathias cringed and bit his lip when he heard Gold's tread upon the stairs and then his name being called. He wanted to crawl in a hole, he was so ashamed. He knew better than to drop things, he had been punished enough by Pan for being clumsy. And now he had broken something special of his papa's . . . something from their old realm and it couldn't be replaced. He fumbled and dropped his inhaler on his bed.

_Stupid! Stupid Mouse! Now you're in for it, and you deserve whatever punishment you get, you dumb clumsy idiot!_

He darted out of his room, which was a ways down the hall, and peered across the hall towards the stairs, where he saw his father climbing up them. Strangely, his papa didn't seem all that angry . . . but perhaps he was and just not showing it yet. Pan had done that. Sometimes he would smile and speak softly to Mouse . . . just before he unleashed his wrath upon him for something.

_You've been horribly bad. And you know what bad boys deserve, _a familiar voice taunted in his head.

He bowed his head, tears glistening on his lashes.

_Crybaby! Coward crybaby!_ Now the voice in his head sounded like Felix, sneering at him for crying and acting like a baby.

Mathias swallowed hard. _No! I'm not a coward or a crybaby! _Biting his lip, he scurried down the hall, determined to show his father that his son was brave . . . brave enough to take his punishment like a man. He slipped inside Rumple's bedroom . . . for what he needed was inside it.

Rumple opened his mouth to call for his son again, going down the hall towards the boy's room, figuring the child was in there. "Mathias?"

Just as he reached the door, and was peeking around the doorframe inside, he heard a small voice say, "Here I am, sir."

Gold turned to see the little boy standing a few feet behind him, looking at the ground. He looked utterly wretched. "Hey," Gold began. "It's okay, it was an accident—" he lost his voice as he saw what the boy was holding in his hands. "Son, what are you doing with . . . _that_?"

Mathias shivered slightly, then held out the belt he had fetched from the bedroom. Obviously his papa hadn't had time to get it himself, so Mathias had done so, knowing quite well what the punishment for bad little boys who broke special things was. He only hoped Rumple didn't hit _too_ hard, since he was still sore from the previous beating.

Rumple stared at the belt in the boy's outstretched hands as if it were a viper, revulsion crawling over his features.

Mathias didn't understand why his papa didn't take the belt and punish him. "Sir?" he asked uncertainly, sniffling. "I'm sorry . . . I didn't mean to . . ." He swallowed again, mastering his tears, biting his lip to shreds.

"Mathias . . ."

The child thrust the belt at him again, whispering, "Here, sir."

"Lad, why do I need this?" Rumple made himself ask.

The little boy gave him an incredulous look. "So . . . so you can punish me for . . . for breaking the teapot."

"And you think . . . I'm going to beat you over that?"

Mathias nodded, sniffling. "Uh huh." When it appeared that Rumple wasn't going to take the belt, the boy shoved it into his hands. Then he turned around quickly and bent over, bracing himself against the wall. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying not to cry as he waited for the punishment to start.

Rumple just stared at the child for several moments, thinking _he can't really expect me to . . . to beat him . . ._ while another part hissed, _of course he can . .. after all that's what they did to him on Neverland . . ._The thought made him ill. Then he dropped the belt on the floor and reached out and gently tugged the little boy around to face him.

The startled Mathias burst into tears, not understanding why his papa didn't just give him his punishment and get it over with. "I'm so-o-rry!" he bawled. He waited to be shoved back against the wall and to feel the belt across his backside.

Instead he found himself being hugged and Rumple's hand, instead of smacking him like he deserved, was stroking his hair. Utterly confused, he started to cry harder.

"Shh! Mathias, it's okay. You're not in trouble. I'm not going to punish you," Rumple reassured him.

Shocked at that statement, Mathias stopped sobbing. "Y-You're not? But . . . But I _broke_ your favorite teapot . . . I w-was bad . . ."

"Hey . . . look at me," his papa ordered, waiting until the child's eyes met his before saying, "It was an accident, son, and I will _never_ punish you over an accident . . . or beat you with anything . . . and especially _not_ a belt! That ended when I rescued you from Felix. There will be no more beatings, Mathias, not ever again. Not from me, not from anyone. Because that's not how my children are punished."

The boy blinked up at him. "They're . . . not?"

"No. I never used a belt on Bae, and I sure won't start with you. In this house, a belt is for holding up your pants, and that's all."

"Then . . . what are you gonna use? A stick?"

"_Nothing._ Not a stick, or a whip, or my hand. I'll never hit you, Mathias. The only way you'll ever be punished is by scoldings and maybe some time in your room, thinking about your misbehavior. That's all."

That was _all_? Mathias almost couldn't grasp that concept. It seemed too good to be true. Ever since he could remember, he had known kicks and cuffs and beatings, sometimes every couple of days, depending on the mood that Peter or Felix or a few others were in. "I . . . don't understand."

Rumple knelt and put his hands on the boy's shoulders. "Mathias, listen to me. I will never beat you. Not for any reason. Ever. Remember that, please. And as far as breaking my teapot goes . . . I want you to come with me and see something."

He took his son gently by the hand and led him back downstairs.

By then, Belle had swept up the glass shards of the teapot and placed them on a cloth on the table.

Rumple led the child over to where Belle stood, with the shards of the teapot on the table. "Now . . . anything that breaks in this house can always be mended. Like this," and he waved a hand over the broken shards and purple magic swirled about them, putting them back together again.

It was as if the teapot had never been broken.

"There! It's fixed," Rumple told him. "And even if it wasn't, it's just a teapot, son, and not worth getting hysterical over and certainly not worth getting beaten over."

"Beaten?" Belle exclaimed, horrified.

"That's what he thought I was going to do to him," Rumple told her. "He brought me my belt so I could punish him. Until I convinced him otherwise."

"My God!" Belle exclaimed. "Mathias, we would _never_ do that! Belts are for holding up pants and dresses, and making a dress look fancy, but certainly _not_ to hit little boys!"

Mathias stared at her, she seemed so distressed over what had been an everyday thing back on the island.

"You're our son, Mathias, and not a slave," Rumple added. "You don't need to clean the whole house in order to make us proud to have you. Though I do thank you for it, it's not necessary. We love you and always will, no matter if you scrub the floor or not."

Mathias' relief was so great he started sniffling, as his heart realized then what his head had been telling him a week ago . . . that he was no longer Mouse, but Mathias Gold. No longer a slave, but a child, a child who didn't need to fear whippings and beatings ever again. And it was then he realized that it was finally over . . . the nightmare was ended, now and forever, and he could finally come out of the shadows for good.

Then Belle grabbed him in a hug and he cried all over her, uncaring because at last he was loved and wanted, and had found a place where he belonged, a place where he could be, at last, just an ordinary little boy.

When he finally stopped crying, Rumple handed him a tissue and then said, "Okay, now let's have some breakfast . . . and some tea along with it." Then he picked up the teapot and set it in the middle of the kitchen table, with hot water and teabags steeping inside it, and next to it was a matching sugar bowl and creamer, and three cups.

And they all had tea and some of Belle's delicious oatmeal with brown sugar, cinnamon, bananas, and walnuts, before Gold had to leave for work and Belle got ready to show Mathias how to recognize the letters of the alphabet while helping her bake a pie for dessert that night.


	14. Tuesdays With Grandpa Maury

**14**

**Tuesdays With Grandpa Maury**

A few days later, Belle brought Mathias by Game of Thorns to meet Maurice. The child was intensely curious about him, as he had never had any kind of family like this before, and didn't know what it would be like to meet a grandparent. "Was he really a king in Fairy Tale Land, Mama?"

"Yes, he was. And I was a princess, once upon a time." Belle told him.

"So . . . I guess that makes me . . ." Mathias's mouth dropped open as he came to the obvious conclusion.

"A prince, since you're my son," Belle concluded.

"_Me_?" the little boy halted in the middle of the sidewalk. "But I'm not really—"

Belle put a finger on his lips. "Oh, yes, you are, Mathias Gold! You are my son, in every way except one, and when I adopted you, you gained my status. So you _are_ a prince, even though such things like that don't matter here. Here it's more important what you do, not what you were born as. So I can be a princess and a librarian, and your grandpa was a king and now he's a florist and a gardener."

"And Papa's a sorcerer, a spinner, _and_ a pawnbroker," Mathias recited.

"Yes, your papa is many things," Belle said, smiling at him.

"But not a prince."

"No."

"I'm glad. 'Cause if everybody was a prince, it'd be awful boring," he stated.

Belle started laughing. "You're right, scamp. It would be." Then she reached out and straightened his long-sleeved plaid shirt, which had once been Rumple's, and which Mathias, despite having many new clothes, seemed to prefer over all his other ones. He was also wearing the gray T-shirt made of velvet-soft cotton and the loose gray trousers Rumple had given him that first morning. Rumple had shrunk them slightly so they were a little less baggy since his backside was healing well, and he also wore his black Converse. Mathias had also gone to visit the barber recently, and his flyaway mop of brown hair had been trimmed into a cut that resembled his father's.

Soon they reached Game of Thorns, and Belle led the way into the shop, calling softly, "Father? We're here."

"Just a minute. I'm in the back," they heard a man's voice answer.

Mathias looked about the shop curiously. There were flowers and plants everywhere, almost like a miniature jungle or garden had been brought inside. Some were in large earthenware pots and others hung in baskets from the ceiling. There were rows of small flowers arranged neatly in glass vases near the counter, and then there was a small stream burbling along some flat rocks and statues of frogs, dragonflies, and creatures that looked like fauns. More plants, similar to the ones on Neverland, surrounded the stream. There was also a rack with potting soil, gardening tools, and insect sprays. Plus an even larger display of all kinds of containers for your plants and flowers.

Mathias went over to some African violets, eyeing the pretty plants, for he had never seen ones like this before, though they had many exotic species on Neverland. A small sign told what they were. Frowning, he mouthed the words to himself, sounding them out in his head like Belle had taught him.

"Those are pretty, aren't they?" Belle said as she came over to him. "They're African violets."

"They'd look nice in the kitchen window," her son suggested, referring to the large bay window in the kitchen, right behind the table.

"They would, wouldn't they?" Belle agreed.

Mathias nodded, then moved around to look at some other plants and herbs, many of which he recognized, even though he couldn't read their names on the little cards.

Just then Maurice appeared from the back of the shop, wiping his hands on a rag in his pocket. He was dressed in jeans and cotton shirt with his customary gray windbreaker over it, wearing a baseball cap on his thatch of dark hair. He came around the counter and hugged Belle, saying, "How are you doing?"

"Fine, Father. Never better," she assured him. "Now go meet your new grandson." She indicated the child peering at an acanthus.

Maurice approached the boy, thinking as he did so that the child was a good-looking little chap, if a little thin, though Belle had told him that was because he'd been starved mostly on that Godforsaken island. She had also told him about the child's asthma and how he had been treated like a slave on Neverland by Pan, Felix, and the majority of the Lost Boys. She had even told him of the terrible lashing he'd endured and how Rumple had rescued him and they were now working to cure him of the wounds he bore both of body and spirit. That had gone a long way to getting Maurice to see Gold as a changed man.

"Hello. You must be Mathias," Maurice said, keeping his voice low, because Belle had stressed the boy was shy.

Mathias turned, his brown eyes meeting the former king's shyly. "Yes, sir. I'm Mathias Gold." He held out a hand as Rumple had taught him.

"Maurice French, but most everybody calls me Moe," Maurice said, taking the boy's hand in his. "But I guess . . . since you're my grandson, you can call me—"

"Grandpa Maury?" Mathias suggested, then he blushed and looked at his sneakers. "I'm sorry, sir. I shouldn't interrupt, Papa says that's bad manners."

Maurice chuckled then. "It's okay, lad. Grandpa Maury. You know, I like that." He patted the child lightly on the shoulder.

Mathias gazed up at the florist, thinking that Maurice might be a big bluff man, with his broad shoulders and round face, but he wasn't afraid of him like he'd been of Felix and Peter. A slow shy smile crept over his face.

Maurice found that the boy's grin was like watching the sun come out after a drenching downpour. It reminded him oddly of his daughter, and suddenly the initial awkwardness he'd felt vanished. "So, Mathias, do you like plants?"

The little boy nodded eagerly. "Yes, sir. I do." He pointed to one. "That's an acanthus, and this one over here is a fiddlehead fern, and this one is a calla lily, and that's a philodendron . . ."

Maurice and Belle watched in amazement as the child went around naming all the plants in the shop that he recognized, until Maurice said, "My God, he's like an encyclopedia! Belle, did you teach him that?"

"No, Father. He . . . he can't even read well yet, I'm just teaching him how to spell and recognize words," Belle said, amazed.

"Mathias, can you tell me how you would care for this plant over here?" asked Maurice, curious to see what the boy would say.

Mathias looked at the plant, which was a tropical plumeria, and said, "This is a pink plumeria, and it needs lots of sun and some water, enough so the soil stays moist, but not too much, it should be just enough to wet it down and not be dry."

"Yes, that's correct. How do you know that?"

Mathias shrugged. "Tiger Lily taught me. She's a dryad, she knows everything about growing things, plants and herbs and that sort of thing. And since . . . since I was her friend, she taught me a lot of stuff about plants and herbs and how they grow and what they can do for you."

"That's marvelous! And you . . . you remember what she told you," Maurice said excitedly. It was rare to find a youngster that was interested in growing things and plants nowadays, instead of baseball or video games.

Mathias nodded. "I had to. There wasn't any paper to write things down, and even if there had been, I couldn't write anything since I don't know how. But Mama's teachin' me how to write my name an' read too," he told his grandfather proudly. "And Papa says I should pick it right up, since I'm smart as a whip."

"He's right," Maurice agreed. And that was shocking, that he actually agreed with Rumplestiltskin about something. "How would you like to help me arrange some flowers and transplant some too?"

"Really?" Mathias' eyes shone.

"Come on," Maurice led the child back into his back room, where he had all the flowers waiting to be arranged and some others waiting to be put in different pots to sell. He handed the child a trowel and a pair of small gloves and said, "Let's see what you do with this geranium over here. I want to put it into a smaller pot, since I need this big one for something else."

Mathias examined the pots along a shelf, selecting one that was about medium sized. Without being told, he mixed two different kinds of potting soil together and filled the medium pot with it, leaving space to put in the geranium.

Maurice watched as his grandson carefully uprooted the geranium, managing not to spill any dirt and getting the entire plant out without damaging it. The boy placed the plant in the new soil, then found a half-full can of water and watered it before tamping the soil down and giving the plant more water. Then Mathias set down the trowel and looked up at him.

"Grandpa Maury, I'm done!" he declared.

"You did a fine job," Maurice praised. "Now let's plant some herbs, shall we?"

Belle smiled, pleased that they were getting along so well, then she said, "Would you like to stay and help your grandpa, Mathias, while I go to work at the library? You can bring him by after storytime around twelve thirty, Father."

"I'd like that, Mama," her son replied.

"Yes, let him stay, Belle. I can see he's going to be a great help around here, since half the kids these days don't know a violet from a tulip," her father said.

"I'll leave you two alone then, and I'll see you later," she said, and left the two happily puttering around in the back room of the shop, discussing this and that plant and the best way to care for it.

**Page~*~*~*~*~Break**

Grandfather and grandson hit it off so well that when Mathias ran into the library that afternoon, just after Belle had finished her afternoon storytime, he almost stammered from excitement when he went to tell her that, "Mama, guess what? Grandpa Maury says that I can come by on Tuesdays and help him with all the plants and flowers 'cause that's when he gets deliveries. I can, can't I?"

"Yes, you _may_," Belle said, gently correcting his grammar. Rumple and she had decided not to send the boy to school yet, because of his health problems and also because he was still so shy and scared around strangers. He would need time to adjust, and both parents thought it best if Belle homeschooled him for several months, until he became accustomed to the way things were done in Storybrooke and had more therapy with Dr. Hopper. "I'm glad you like being with your grandpa, Mathias. I think . . . I think he always wanted a little boy."

"Why didn't he have one?"

"Well, you see, my mama died when I was small, she was very sick, and it made your grandpa so sad that he never remarried," Belle explained.

"Then I don't have a grandma?"

"No, sweetie. Because your papa's parents are both dead so . . ."

"Oh. That's too bad," the little boy sighed.

"But there's always Granny Lucas," Belle told him. "She'd be happy to call you her grandson."

"But Mama, Felix is there," Mathias said with a shudder. He unconsciously rubbed his backside, then yelped because he had aggravated his still-healing welts.

"Are you okay?" Belle asked, alarmed.

"M'fine," her son hastened to assure her. He didn't want her to think he was a baby, and it was his own fault.

Belle frowned, then decided to ask Rumple to put on some more salve when he came by for lunch, as he usually did nowadays. Then she said, "Sweetie, you don't have to worry about Felix anymore. Your papa went and talked to him and he won't ever hurt you again. Or even come by you. And Granny knows that, and she'll make sure he stays away."

That made the little boy feel a lot better, though he still wished he had a grandma and a grandpa. Then he shrugged and thought one grandparent was better than none at all, especially one who liked growing things the way Maurice did.

Rumple appeared not too long after and Mathias chattered happily to him about helping Grandpa Maury while Belle finished cleaning up the children's section. "Okay, son, you can tell me more over lunch," Gold said, relieved that Maurice seemed to accept the boy and not hold who his father was against him. "While your mama's straightening up over there, let me put some more silvadeen on you."

"Now?" the child sighed, somewhat dismayed. "Thought I only needed some at night."

"It won't hurt for me to give you an extra application," Rumple persuaded. "Come on," he gently steered the boy towards the restrooms in the corner.

"Papa, m'fine!"

"I'll be the judge of that, young man," Gold said briskly.

Mathias huffed, but came along obediently.

Rumple carefully examined the child before applying the cream which he'd summoned, noting the lacerations were healing well, though one or two seemed a little irritated. Those he gently held a wet towel to for a few moments before using the silvadeen.

"Ahh!" the little boy yelped. "Papa, that's cold!" He wriggled in protest, bent over the counter.

"I know, relax. It's just for a minute, because you've irritated them with your rubbing. Be still."

"It's cold!" he grumbled softly, but stopped moving.

After Rumple put the cream on, Mathias admitted he felt better, then accompanied the older man back into the library, where they waited for Belle before going over to Granny's for lunch.

Granny herself served them this time, and while Gold and Belle had their usual hamburgers, Mathias had a grilled cheese with bacon and homemade potato chips, managing to eat most of it before pushing his plate away and saying he was full.

He was glad when Granny gave him a small piece of key lime pie to take home, because he was afraid that if he stayed there any longer, sooner or later he'd see Felix, who he knew was somewhere around the diner.

Afterwards, Belle went back to the library, and Rumple took his son back to his shop, where he put the piece of pie away and told the child he could use help unpacking some boxes down in the basement before he reopened.

Mathias happily helped him, finding all sorts of interesting things in there, and after placing them gently on the shelves, wandered over to Rumple's old spinning wheel and said, "Papa, can you spin straw into gold on this?"

"I can. Would you like to see?" Rumple offered.

"Yes!" Mathias was practically jumping up and down.

Rumple sat down and summoned some straw and then showed Mathias how to pump the wheel and twist the straw and then magic arced from his hands and the straw was suddenly transmuted to golden thread, spinning around and around the bobbin.

"Cool! Do it again!"

Rumple did, spinning most of a bobbin before he stopped and said, "All right, that's enough. We don't really need any more gold right now."

Mathias nodded, sad to see the magic come to an end. "Papa? Can you teach me how to spin?"

"Yes, if you like," Rumple said, pleased. "Of course, you can't spin straw into gold, but you can spin wool, like any spinner." He summoned a basket full of undyed wool and showed his son how to place it and to spin it. "Okay. Now you come here and try."

Mathias came and sat down in front of his papa, and Rumple guided him, showing him how to place the wool upon the wheel and how to pump the treadle and keep the tension going. Soon a rather lumpy strand of yarn came out onto the bobbin.

"There! You did a great job," Rumple praised.

"But Papa . . . it's crooked," the child said, frowning.

"Son, everybody's yarn is crooked the first time," the master spinner laughed. "Including mine."

"Can I try it again?"

"Certainly," once again he helped the child, and this time the yarn was less lumpy than before. "Better. See, the more you practice, the better you'll get." He helped his son a third time, and by the fifth repetition Mathias said he wanted to do it himself, so Rumple let him spin while he dusted and reopened the shop.

The pawnbroker looked over at the boy from time to time, noting the intense concentration on his son's face, and the way he chewed his lip a little as he carefully spun the wool. He had taught Bae how to spin when he was a little older than Mathias, but Bae didn't have the patience to practice for hours, and would soon grow tired and be off playing outside. Mathias, however, showed no signs of growing tired, and spun happily for nearly an entire hour, only stopping when Rumple told him he'd spun enough for today and to go wash his hands.

"We'll take this home to show your mama," he said to his son. "You did very well for your first time."

Mathias examined the thread critically. "It's crooked."

"Hey. It's better than a lot of apprentices I've taught, and you can't be perfect. Next time you'll be better." He ruffled his son's hair, thinking how funny it was that with all the modern toys and games the boy had been given, it was his old spinning wheel that seemed to hold the child's interest the most.

He stuck the bobbin in his pocket and then had his son get a drink from the fridge in the back room and eat his pie as a snack before helping Rumple rearrange some items inside his glass cabinet and tag some new ones, teaching the boy his numbers while he did so.

**Page~*~*~*~*~Break**

_A month later:_

Every Tuesday, Mathias went to Game of Thorns and helped Grandpa Maury with his flowers and plants. Maurice discovered that the former Lost Boy had no aversion to doing any sort of chore he asked, from sweeping up spilled dirt to mixing compost to watering all the plants or feeding them with some special food Mathias had suggested he try, which seemed to make all the plants and flowers bloom vibrantly.

Maurice was delighted to have found another gardener, and Mathias seemed to know instinctively what each plant seemed to need to make it grow well, whether it was a different position in the shop, to less sunlight, or extra food. He was also very good with herbs, and knew several different preparations that could help with different ailments.

"He's like a walking pharmacology," he told Belle one afternoon when she came by to pick him up.

"He's very bright," she agreed. "He can read now at a third grade level, once he grasped the way you formed letters on the page it was like a light went on in his head and now he reads _everything_. He read the paper to Rumple yesterday and I've given him a new word to learn and use in a sentence everyday."

Maurice laughed. "Looks like you've got another bookworm on your hands, Belle."

Belle beamed proudly. For her son had a prodigious memory, one that retained knowledge like a sponge retained water, and he learned things at an astonishing rate. He could write several sentences now and comprehend mostly everything he read, and if he didn't know a word, he looked it up in Belle's dictionary or online.

In addition to his schoolwork, he also accompanied Rumple to his shop on Wednesdays, and helped his papa organize his collection of antiques and collectibles, and Rumple often told him stories about each piece, which Mathias started to write down in a small notebook, so he could share them with Henry and Pinocchio. He also practiced his spinning there, and soon could spin a very good thread, and Rumple was teaching him to spin mohair.

He seemed to be adjusting well, and yet there were times he still had nightmares about Neverland, and woke up with the old terror strangling him and had to take puffs on his inhaler. It was on those nights that he ended up going and cleaning the house, as if the monotonous routine were a kind of safe mechanism for him.

Twice Belle and Rumple caught him cleaning, and asked why he was doing it, but the child just shrugged and said he felt like it, not wanting to admit he was still having nightmares. It was Archie who finally teased it out of him during his therapy session, and soon after was met by a concerned Rumple, who asked if he'd found out the mysterious reason behind Mathias' cleaning sprees.

"He's a little OCD, Rumple. And cleaning is a habit with him," Archie said, trying to help without disclosing the real reason Mathias had told him and breaking his confidentiality. "So sometimes he just . . . needs to clean something. It makes him feel better."

"I don't understand. He was forced to clean as a slave on Neverland, so how can it make him feel better?" Rumple asked, puzzled.

"Well, it's been a routine for him for who knows how long," Archie explained. "And you know, habits are comforting, sometimes. So . . . maybe you could have him clean on certain days?"

"Yes, I suppose that can't hurt, only I don't want him thinking he's a servant."

"Oh, I doubt he does think that . . . or if he does, it's another habit of his. Have you noticed any difference in his attitude recently?"

"Yes. He seems much less shy and has slowly started to interact more with other children, like Henry and Marco's two boys, Pinocchio and Perry."

"Good. And how's he been sleeping?"

"Okay. I think," Gold said. "Hmm . . . maybe I ought to monitor that. Make sure he isn't having any more nightmares."

"That would be good," Archie said, hoping that would clue Gold into Mathias' problem.

Gold set a silent ward that would alert him if Mathias woke during the night and seemed distressed, placing it just inside the boy's room.

**Page~*~*~*~*~Break**

As he began to grow closer to Maurice, Mathias noticed something that bothered him. He noticed that his grandfather didn't seem to really speak to his papa all that much, only seeming to be concerned about Belle and Mathias. When Belle talked about her upcoming wedding, all Maurice said was, "I hope he's paying for all of it, considering."

Belle frowned and said, "Of course, Father. All you need to do is to come and give me away and stay for the reception afterwards at the town hall."

"I can do it," Maurice sighed, but he seemed grudging about it.

That got Mathias to thinking, and it was then that the little boy came to the conclusion that there was something not right between his papa and Grandpa Maury. After Belle had left, when they were repotting some petunias and begonias, Mathias finally got up enough courage to ask, "Grandpa Maury?"

"What is it, Matty?" Maurice asked, calling the boy by a nickname only he used.

"Uh . . . I was wondering . . . why don't you like my papa?"

The question shocked the older man, who had never realized that his indifference to Gold would be noted by the child, until he realized that the boy was as precocious as they came, and nothing missed those quiet brown eyes. "Well . . . you see . . . it's rather complicated. When I first knw your papa, he was under a curse, do you know about that?"

"He told me. He was cursed to be the Dark One. But because he helped Tiger Lily, his curse got broken," Mathias said.

"Right, well, before that, he made a deal with me to save my kingdom, but his price was your mama as his chatelaine. And that made me . . . very angry because I thought he was an evil beast and would hurt her," Maurice admitted. "Turned out I was wrong, but I never wanted to see it, even though your mama insisted he was a good man and loved her."

"Papa does love her," Mathias reassured him. "He loves her to the moon and back, just like he loves me."

Maurice coughed. "Yes, I know. Now I know. Your papa and I have had our differences, Matty. And some of them . . . were my fault . . . and some were his . . . but I . . . told your mama I'd let bygones be bygones since she was going to marry Mr. Gold. It just takes a little more time than I thought."

Mathias nodded. "Sort of like it takes me time to forget about what Felix did to me."

"Uh . . . in a way," Maurice said, thinking that the child was entirely too damn perceptive for seven years old.

"Maybe you'll like him better if I tell you all the nice things he's done for me and Mama," Mathias said.

"Uh . . . if you like," Maurice said, thinking that was the last thing he'd expected to be discussing.

Mathias began telling him all the things Rumple had done lately, and gradually Maurice started to see Rumple not as the beast he had always thought, but as a loving and dedicated fiancée and father. Mathias, like Belle, adored Rumple, and it showed in the way he talked about the man. Maurice began to consider that maybe he might be willing to give Rumple a chance . . . when suddenly the door to Game of Thorns opened and Gold entered.

"Mr. French? Mathias?"

At familiar voice, Mathias dropped his trowel on the counter and raced from the back room. "Papa! Papa!"

"How's my boy?" Gold asked, as the little boy ran to hug him.

"Papa, guess what I did today?" Mathias said. "I helped Grandpa Maury put in a whole row of begonias and we put water lilies in the koi pond and I got to feed the fish and . . ."

" . . . and it looks like you forgot to wash your hands because all of a sudden I'm covered in dirt," Rumple said, somewhat dismayed, as he looked down at himself and found faint streaks of dirt on his good Dolce and Gabbana suit.

"Uh oh," Mathias groaned, as he now realized his hands were streaked with potting soil. "I'm sorry, Papa." He hung his head and pulled away from his father, looking utterly devastated.

Maurice had come out of the back room, and stood silently beside the door, thinking, _if that . . .landlord dares to yell at my grandson for an accident, I'm going to give him a piece of my mind all right . . ._

"Mathias, it's fine," Rumple said, kneeling and gently putting a hand under the boy's chin. "It's only a bit of dirt. Look, it comes right off," and he brushed a hand down his suit, and the dirt was suddenly vanished, leaving small twinkling motes of purple magic behind. "There's nothing to be upset about."

The little boy perked up at that, relieved that his papa wasn't angry, then he said, "I'm going to wash my hands now!" and bolted for the little bathroom off the back of the shop.

Rumple rose to his feet, and saw Maurice standing there. He nodded cordially at the other man and said, "I hope I wasn't interrupting anything, Mr. French?"

"No, we were just . . . err . . . repotting some perennials," Maurice said, thinking that he had certainly misjudged the other man. He had expected Gold to get angry at the boy's mishap, not just shrug it off.

"Good. I came today instead of Belle because Emma and Snow have taken her for her dress fitting," Gold told him.

Maurice nodded, then said awkwardly, "You know, Gold . . . I think . . . I might have . . . misjudged you . . ."

"In what way?" asked the pawnbroker.

"I always thought you were using my daughter . . . but now I see that I was wrong . . . You truly do love her . . . and you love that boy in there."

"Yes. They're my family, and there is nothing more important to me. _Nothing._"

"I see that now. And I . . . was wrong to . . . steal that cup from you . . .I never should have let the mayor manipulate me . . . but it was easy to blame you for my own stupidity in falling behind on my payments and . . . well . . ."

"We've all done things we regret, especially when we were cursed," Rumple began. "Me included. I . . . apologize for my temper . . . I wasn't thinking clearly when I . . . assaulted you . . or rather I was thinking only about hatred and revenge . . .something which I've put aside now."

"Yes, I can see that," Maurice said. "And I . . . forgive you . . . if you can forgive me also . . . Rumplestiltskin." He held out a hand.

"Deal," said the former Dark One, and they shook.

Mathias came out of the bathroom just then and saw. "Are you friends now, Papa?"

Rumple turned and looked at his son. "Yes, Mathias."

"Yes!" the little boy grinned and punched the air victoriously.

"Are you all ready to go home?" Rumple asked.

"Uh huh. But wait! I gotta get the flower for Mama!" Mathias cried, and rushed into the back room to pick up the pretty flowering tea rose he'd planted for her.

Maurice watched him scurry away, then said softly to Rumple, "That kid's something else. If I didn't know better, I'd say he planned this whole thing."

Rumple chuckled. "With Mathias, you never know."

Maurice nodded. "He's like his mama, so smart it's scary. And I thought you said he was shy, Rumple."

"Only if he doesn't know you well. Otherwise he'll talk your ear off, like you didn't know that, Moe," Gold replied, smirking.

Mathias came out of the back room, cradling the rose bush in his arms. "Papa, see the rose bush I planted for Mama?"

Rumple smiled down at him, saying, "You did an excellent job, son. Now let me take it before you accidentally drop it." He took the champagne blush tea rose from his son and held it in one arm. "Now, we'd best be going, lad. I need to start supper before your mama gets home. What do you say to your grandfather?"

Mathias turned and hugged Maurice. "Thanks, Grandpa Maury, for letting me work here and I'll see you next Tuesday!"

"I'll be waiting, scamp. So don't be late," his grandfather said, and hugged the boy goodbye.

"I won't! Bye!" Mathias called, then he grabbed Rumple by the hand and pulled him out the shop door. "C'mon, Papa! Hurry, I wanna get home before Mama does so I can put her present on the windowsill."

"Mathias Gold, slow down before you give yourself an asthma attack," Gold scolded mildly, shaking his head and smiling at his irrepressible son, who had done something he'd once thought impossible—reconcile him and Maurice French.

"Papa, m'fine!" panted the boy, waving his inhaler. "I took some before I left Grandpa Maury's."

Rumple rolled his eyes in resignation. "You'd tell me you were fine if you were lying bleeding to death in the street."

"No, I wouldn't," his son disagreed. "Cause dead people can't talk."

"Now don't you get smart with me, boy," Gold mock-growled.

Mathias smirked. "Okay, Papa. But it's a fact."

"Never mind your facts, you little imp. I swear, any more of your mouth and you'll be getting some Stiltskin Tickle Torture when we get home."

Mathias released Rumple's hand, saying saucily, "Uh, Papa? You'd have to catch me first." Then he ran down the sidewalk, giggling.

"Why, you sassy brat!" his papa muttered, then transported the rose bush home and sprinted after his son, finally catching up to the boy after a half a block and picking him up and tossing him over his shoulder.

Mathias was already giggling before Rumple transported them home and started tickling him, making the boy scream with laughter.

"You going to behave?"

"Uh huh. I promise! Papa . . . please . . ." the little boy was laughing hysterically in his father's lap, trying to escape Rumple's devilishly quick fingers.

"All right, guess you've learned your lesson, huh?" he said, then gave Mathias a quick hug before allowing him to scramble off his lap and put the rose bush on the windowsill, where Belle would be sure to spot it when she came home.

Rumple watched him, smiling to himself and thinking that he'd made the best decision ever when he had chosen to adopt the little boy, for Mathias had changed his life in ways he'd never imagined, and wouldn't Belle be surprised that he and Maurice had finally buried the hatchet?


	15. New Friends

**15**

**New Friends**

Belle was almost in transports when she came home that evening and discovered not only a lovely rose bush on the kitchen windowsill, but the news that Maurice and Rumple had finally mended their fences and they could, at long last, have something like peace between the two men.

"It makes me so happy, Rumple," she told her beloved over dinner, which was chicken cacciatore with Italian bread and a simple salad of radicchio and romaine with some balsamic vinaigrette and whole grain croutons.

"Well, you really ought to thank our son, dearie," he told her, gesturing to Mathias. "He's the one who convinced your stiff-necked papa to see me differently, and once he met me halfway, I . . . well . . . I found I couldn't hold a grudge any longer, so I forgave him."

"I know that couldn't have been easy, and you ought to be proud of yourself for doing so," she told him. Then she turned to her son. "And thank you, Mathias, for getting these two stubborn as ten mules men to see reason."

Mathias looked down at his plate. "It was no big deal, Mama. I just pointed out some things about Papa to Grandpa Maury and then he started to see something there that he never had before. Because he'd never looked at it that way. That's all."

"Mathias, _that_ is like a miracle," Belle smiled. "And for that you deserve a surprise."

"Like what?" he asked, his eyes wide.

"Well, you'll have to wait and see," she said mysteriously. "And your rose bush is beautiful. Did you plant it in that pot yourself?"

"Uh huh. But Grandpa Maury helped a little. 'Cause roses have thorns and he didn't want me getting cut," the child told her.

"And how did your fitting go, Belle?" Rumple asked.

"It went fine. I love the dress and I think you will too . . . once you see me in it on our wedding day," she said, her eyes suddenly dreamy.

"How come he's gotta wait till then?" queried her son.

"Because it's tradition, dearie," Rumple replied.

"And also it's considered bad luck for a groom to see his bride in her wedding dress before the wedding," Belle added.

"But that's okay. I like to be surprised," Rumple said. "Which reminds me, I need to go and order a tuxedo. And one for you too, Mathias. Now that I can venture out of Storybrooke, we can get decent ones in Boston, and I can tailor them to fit if necessary."

"What's a tuxedo?" asked Mathias.

"That's formal wear for special occasions like weddings," Rumple explained. "It's a very expensive black and white suit with a black tie and jacket and shoes. You'll need a pair of dress shoes as well, I think Gucci makes ones in your size. After all, we can't have our ring bearer looking like something the cat dragged in, now can we?"

Mathias giggled. "Papa, we ain't got a cat."

"You mean we _haven't_ got one," Belle corrected.

"And you know perfectly well what I mean, dearie," Rumple said.

Mathias just smiled, his large dark eyes glinting mischievously. He had only recently begun to feel comfortable teasing his parents, and this was as bold as he got.

**Page~*~*~*~*~Break**

That evening before bed, Belle made Mathias his usual kava and chamomile tea, an herbal tea meant to relax and soothe the child and make him sleepy. She stirred in some honey for taste and gave it to him while he sat on the sofa, reading a new library book she had brought him called _Lassie Come Home_ by Eric Knight.

"Why don't you read the next chapter to your papa and me?" Belle suggested, figuring that was a good way to let him practice his reading skills and gain confidence by reading aloud.

"Okay, Mama," Mathias said, and slowly sipped his tea before beginning to read about Joe Carraclough and his fine collie to Rumple, who was knitting a garter for a small wedding gift for Belle, and Belle, who was embroidering a fine silk handkerchief as wedding present for Rumple.

When Mathias came to the end of the chapter, Belle said, "That was a fine job you did. I might have to have you do storytime with me on Thursdays from now on."

Mathias looked pleased, but said only, "The kids wouldn't want to hear me read, Mama. I'm not as good as you yet."

"Well, you keep on the way you are and you will be," Belle assured him. "Why, a month ago you couldn't even read the word cat or spell your name and now you can do all of that and more."

Rumple looked up from his knitting and said, "Your mama's right, dearie. You're a remarkable boy, and don't ever let anyone tell you differently."

The little boy blushed faintly, not used to having anyone praise him this way, and he resolved to make his parents proud of him by learning as much as he could, so they wouldn't think he was a stupid shiftless layabout, like Peter had always said.

He quietly finished his tea and then leaned his head sleepily against Belle's shoulder, dozing until Rumple noticed and said, "Mathias, bedtime."

But the child was so cozy and sleepy that he didn't want to move, and remained lying there until Rumple came and picked him up, muttering, "Dearie, you're almost too big for me to carry."

"Rumple, be careful. You might hurt yourself," Belle cautioned.

"It's okay, Belle. I put a featherweight charm on him, so I won't stress myself carrying him up the stairs," he reassured her. He half-draped the sleeping child over his shoulder and walked up the stairs to Mathias' room, where he put the boy to bed, luckily Mathias was already in his pajamas, and didn't wake when Rumple set him down, covering him with his sheet and crocheted blanket.

He gave the child a kiss on the cheek before making sure his nightlight was on and his inhaler on the nightstand beside it, whispering, "Sweet dreams, lad." Then he left the room, thinking that tonight he and Belle could have some fun of their own.

**Page~*~*~*~*~Break**

When he returned downstairs, he found Belle dozing over her embroidery hoop, and slyly summoned a goose feather and ticked her bare foot until she woke and started giggling.

"Rumple! Stop it!" she ordered, pulling her foot protectively beneath her.

"Why? I want to have some fun tonight. So why don't we play a little game?"

"Oh?" she queried, her eyebrow quirking up. "What kind of game?"

"Something intellectual yet romantic," he answered. "Now . . . you go and get into that . . . err . . . red lacy teddy that Emma made you buy last week."

Belle gasped. "How do you know about that?"

"I was looking for my tie and found the box under the bed," he informed her with a wicked smirk. "Were you saving it for our wedding night, dearie?"

She shook her head. "No . . . not really. It was just . . . something Emma convinced me to buy . . ."

"Good. Then you won't mind dressing up for me, now will you?"

"And what will _you_ be wearing?" she asked archly.

"Dearie, a man never gives away all his secrets. You'll see. It'll be something . . . appropriate," he said with a wink.

"You're a wretched tease, Rumplestiltskin!" she said, and stuck her tongue out at him sassily before she climbed the stairs to their bedroom.

Five minutes later she made her way down the stairs again, clad in the slinky red spaghetti strap teddy that came down to just the middle of her thighs, with a small ruffle around the hem and delicate ruching about the bodice that cupped her breasts and emphasized them pointedly.

As she sashayed into the den, she saw that Rumple had started a fire in the fireplace, and had set up a glass table with a fine chessboard of ivory and onyx pieces, one that she recalled being in his castle back in Fairy Tale Land. The lights were off, and the only illumination in the room was several scented candles surrounding the chess board, floating in midair. Two glasses of a deep red wine were next to each end of the board.

Two chairs were set up across from each other, and Rumple himself was sprawled nonchalantly in one of them, wearing only some casual gray Armani trousers, a silky button-down shirt, his tie undone, and the top few buttons on his shirt left open. He gave her a come-hither look from beneath his lashes that fairly made the air sizzle between them.

"Welcome, dearie, to the first-ever game of Red-Hot Love Chess," he purred. "Where you play for kisses—every time you lose a piece, your partner gets to claim a forfeit, and steal a kiss . . . or undo a piece of clothing . . . until checkmate occurs and after that, dearie, whoever wins gets to take their partner's clothes off and have their wicked way with them . . . all night long."

"Is that a challenge, Rumple darling?" she asked saucily, fluttering her lashes at him as she walked slowly to her chair, twitching her behind provocatively.

"You bet your sexy legs it is, dearie," he chuckled, admiring the view. The way that slinky bit of silk was riding up her derriere was making his heart skip a beat, as was the way she was gliding in those sweet little ruby slippers with the little heel and fluffy pompom on the toe.

"Good. Because I plan to beat your sexy ass, babydoll," she chuckled throatily, giving him a smirk over her shoulder before sitting down.

"In your dreams, sweetheart!"

She picked up the glass of wine. "What's this?"

"Something called Raspberry Chocolate Temptation."

"Mmm. Sounds deliciously sinful," she said, then took a sip. It went down silky smooth, sweeter than honey, but it had a bit of a kick at the end.

"Well?"

"I like it. It has a bit of a bite to it . . . like a certain sorcerer," she said sultrily.

He sipped his own, and nodded. "Oh, yes. Smooth as silk with a little nip at the end. Like a certain librarian I could name." He set the glass down. "Ready?"

"Always, darling. White moves first," she said, then moved a pawn.

He countered by moving his knight, and the game was on.

By the fifth move, he had captured one of her pawns, and claimed as his forfeit a kiss, choosing to kiss her ear . . . and nibble on it as well.

Two moves later she captured his onyx pawn, and claimed a piece of clothing, pulling him up by his tie, then drawing it off and wrapping it around her hand. "Just wait . . . before this game is over you're going to have nothing on."

"You wish, you sassy wench!" he chuckled, then turned to saunter back to his chair. "Hey!" he cried as she snapped his tie across his backside playfully.

"Behave, Rumple!"

He grinned roguishly before sitting down. "Oh, I intend to, my Belle . . . very badly." Then he studied the board before moving a bishop.

By the time half-an-hour had gone by, they were evenly matched, each having an equal number of pieces removed and forfeits paid . . . Belle had half her teddy undone, and one slipper removed, her lips rosy from his stolen kisses, and Rumple had his shirt unbuttoned all the way, one sock off, and a love bite on his neck.

Belle's tongue protruded slightly from between her teeth as she decided whether to use her bishop to capture his knight or move her knight and threaten his castle. "I think . . . I'm going to storm your castle," she said, and drank another sip of her wine.

"Go right ahead, Miss Sweet and Saucy!" he beckoned her with a finger. "I'll put out the welcome mat just for you . . . and roll you up in it!"

She captured his castle, giggling in triumph. "Like Cleopatra in her carpet?"

Then she went and kissed him boldly on the mouth, making him groan.

"Exactly," he replied, and captured her bishop. "Only I'm twice the man Caesar was . . . and I'm not going bald . . . or worried about losing my power to a queen."

He pulled her slippered foot into his lap, and played with it leisurely, stroking it maddeningly before finally sliding her slipper off, then he put her foot down with a possessive little pat.

"They say that Cleopatra was a temptress beyond compare," Belle remarked, trying to see if she could trap him in three moves or less.

"That's because they never saw you, dearie. You can tempt a man just by breathing in and out," he said with a lascivious smile.

"That's sweet, Rumple! But _you_ can turn a girl on just by talking in that sweet sexy voice of yours!"

"Trying to distract me?" he queried, laughing huskily.

She shrugged her shoulders, one long slow roll that caused her bodice to dip . . . and drew his eyes unerringly . . . as she leaned over and checked his bishop.

"I believe you owe me a forfeit, sir."

"Why you sneaky little asp!" his eyes widened in astonishment.

Belle came and sat on his lap then, her fingers playing with his shirt . . . and then gliding down his chest, making him hiss with longing as her hands undid his trousers. "Come into my parlor, said the spider to the fly!"

"Belle! What d'you think I'm made of!"

"Snips and snails and puppydog tails!" she answered, tossing her head, then she pinched his behind before going back to her seat. "And an ass Caesar would have envied!"

"You're damn right he would've!" Rumple preened, and started planning his next move.

Three moves later his rook threatened her king, and her king was poised to topple his last knight. The candles wafted sweet cherry vanilla smoke into the air and their wine glasses were empty.

"Your move, Rumple."

"That's right, dearie. And I'm going to move right over the top of you," he declared wickedly, and knocked over her king. "Check."

"Hells!"

He came and began to trail kisses down her neck onto her shoulder, making her shudder with desire. "Time to surrender, my little Egyptian goddess."

"Oh, you haven't conquered me yet, Imperator Gold," Belle smirked.

"I just took your king!" he objected.

"True, but the queen still lives," she replied, and moved to block him, taking his rook as she did so. "Time to take off your armor, general," she teased, and slowly tugged off his shirt.

Six moves later she had checkmated him, and was happily claiming her reward, straddling him on the couch and showing him how a queen conquered a Roman general turned sorcerer, when he felt the ward he'd implanted in Mathias' room go off.

**Page~*~*~*~*~*~Break**

He dreamed once again of the hell-on-earth called Neverland, where he was made to scrub the latrines and the black cauldron that was crusted with burnt on goop from countless meals where no one washed it out until his hands were blistered and sore and his knees scraped and bruised from kneeling down on the hard packed earth. Once again he starved and shivered when the monsoon rains came and was forced to eat mildewed scraps from the rubbish heap and gnaw on half-eaten bones for sustenance and the other boys taunted, kicked, and teased him for being a wimpy little coward that turned blue when he grew scared or ran too much.

_"You're a good-for-nothing little mouse," Peter sneered and laughed when he kicked the little boy in the stomach and he fell to the ground, gasping in pain, trying to catch his breath, which rasped in his throat. "Look at you! Can't even stand up and put up a fight! You can't fly, fight, or crow, so what good are you? I'll tell you what good you are. You're good for nothing cept cooking, cleaning, and kissing my feet! Or anybody else who feels like telling you what to do . . . Mouse!"_

_Then the dream changed, and he was running . . . running through the thick brush, as Felix and his pack of bullies played a new game—hunt Mouse—and if they caught him they'd tie him to a tree and poke him with stick and kick and beat him, because once again he'd failed and been too cowardly to fight back, though how he could fight boys who bigger and stronger than he was proved a mystery to him._

_His lungs grew tighter and tighter and he found himself gasping for air, and behind him the shouts and taunts of the other boys grew louder, as he staggered and clutched at his throat . . . trying to will the air into his lungs, but it was no use. _

_He fell to the ground, dizzy and helpless, and then Felix and the others came and formed a circle about him, laughing cruelly, and poking him with their spear butts, singing, "Lazy lame little Mouse, never should have left his house, stupid scared wimpy shit, not much braver than a louse, now let's play some games with it!"_

_Their faces leered down at him, grimaces spreading across their mouths, giggling like demons from hell's deepest pit, they kicked and pummeled him, urging him to get up and fight them like a man, but all he could do was lie there, wheezing in terror and waiting to pass out . . . wondering if this was the day their games would kill him . . ._

**Page~*~*~*~*~Break**

"Aww, hells!" he swore, cursing the boy's poor timing.

"What's wrong?" Belle asked. "Am I . . . being too rough?"

"No, dearie. But our son is having a nightmare," he groaned.

"How do you know?"

"I set up a ward to alert me if he woke up and was frightened or distressed," he explained.

"Oh, dear," Belle sighed, and she got off Rumple.

"I'll meet you back up in our bedroom," the sorcerer told her, waving a hand and summoning some Christian Dior pajamas to him.

Then he teleported upstairs to Mathias's room.

He found his son shaking and groping for his inhaler, wheezing like a steam engine going uphill. Rumple gently picked up the inhaler and pressed it into the child's hands, murmuring, "It's all right, dearie. It's just a dream. Here you go. Take a breath." He helped guide the boy's trembling hands to his mouth.

Mathias took a puff of the inhaler, sucking the medicine into his lungs. Gradually his wheezing eased, and Rumple drew him against his chest, rubbing slow circles on his back.

"It's okay. You're safe now."

Mathias threw his arms around his neck, sniffling. "Papa, they were coming to get me."

"Who was?"

"P-Peter and the Lost Boys," Mathias quavered.

"Tell me about it," he urged.

His son shook his head, biting his lip. "You'll . . . you'll think I'm a baby . . ."

"For having a nightmare?" Rumple queried. "Son, we all have nightmares."

"Not you. You can scare them away with your magic," Mathias muttered, burying his face in his papa's shoulder.

"Son, _I_ was my worst nightmare, once upon a time," he admitted. "Sometimes it helps if you talk about it."

The little boy remained silent, and for a few moments Rumple thought he may have fallen asleep, but then Mathias started to speak, telling Rumple all about the wicked games Pan and some of the Lost Boys used to play with him.

Rumple listened, stroking his hair, and reassuring him that he was safe now, nothing would hurt him, and gradually his soft tone and soothing touch coaxed the child into revealing all of his terrible dream. By the end of the recitation, the boy was in tears, crying softly, and Rumple patted his back, saying, "Go ahead, drown that nasty dream with salt water, dearie."

Having received tacit approval, the child let himself weep, until he had cried himself out, lying still against his father's shoulder, his breath catching every now and again on a sob.

Rumple just hugged him, until the boy's breathing had evened out, then he conjured a tissue and wiped his son's face, then another and had him blow his nose, before tucking him back into bed again.

Mathias clutched Rumple's hand as he drifted off to sleep, and his papa waited until the child was sleeping deeply before returning to his room and finding Belle asleep also, her hand caressing his pillow.

"Ah, well. Maybe next time," he sighed, and crawled beneath the sheets beside her, curling spoon fashion about her.

She moaned and opened her eyes. "How's Mathias?"

"Sleeping. He had the devil of a nightmare, but he's all right now."

"Good." Then she kissed his nose. "Now . . . where were we?"

"Right about . . . here," he purred, and made his pajamas vanish, picking up where they had left off.

**Page~*~*~*~*~Break**

Three days later, Mathias was playing with Henry, Pinocchio, Perry, and the Zimmerman twins in the park, pretending to be knights (in the case of Henry, Nick, and Perry) and a sorcerer (Mathias) trying to rescue Pinocchio from an evil witch, played by Eva.

Eva was holed up along with her "prisoner" in the wooden castle, and the heroes were trying to storm it, banging on it with wooden swords and Mathias was throwing "fireballs" at her made from crumpled pieces of shiny gold paper, when he heard a familiar voice say, "Hey. Can I play?"

He turned and saw Rufio standing there, watching them wistfully. Instinctively, he stiffened, and backed away slightly.

Perry and Henry came up beside him then and Perry said, "You were part of Peter's inner circle. Why would you want to play with rejects like us?"

Rufio, who now wore jeans and a Metallica T-shirt and a leather jacket, though he still had his leather bracers and his dyed ruby colored hair that was spiked, looked suddenly at the ground. "I . . . I'm not like that any more. When I was with Peter . . . he used to say "follow the leader or die trying" and he made it like we were better than anyone else if he did what we said . . . so I did . . . but a lot of what he made us do was wrong."

"Like bullying Mathias," Henry put in.

"Not just me," Mathias spoke up. "They used to do stuff to some of the others too. I just got the worst of it."

"Look, I . . . I didn't know . . . well, except in a general kind of way . . . why the things Peter made us do were wrong . . . until I started talking with Dr. Hopper and my new dad, Killian. My dad says Pan brainwashed us all into doing what he wanted," Rufio admitted, toeing the ground with his boot.

"You could have stopped doing it," objected Perry.

"Yeah, maybe. If I wanted to stop having all the privileges and stuff. And I did stop picking on a lot of you after awhile . . . even you, Mouse . . ."

"My name's Mathias now," the other boy corrected. "And what you say is true . . . you weren't half as bad as Felix and Mayhem and his group . . . and Peter . . . he made a lot of us believe things that weren't true. My mama says he was a manipulator and my papa says he also had delusions of grandeur and was a cold selfish bastard who only cared about himself and the games he invented."

"Mr. Gold's right," agreed Perry.

"And so's Belle," Henry added.

"What's delusions of grandeur?" asked Rufio, puzzled.

"It's when you think you're some great ruler or something and whatever you do is wonderful," replied Mathias. "Like Stalin or Hitler."

"Who're they?" Rufio stared at him.

"Crazy ass dictators that murdered millions of people and thought they were wonderful doing it," answered Mathias. "Don't you read about history?"

"Uh . . . I'm not that great at reading. I read comic books," Rufio said somewhat defensively.

"They're in some of them," Henry prompted. "Like the old Captain America ones. They talk about Nazis and stuff. That was what they called the party of people who followed Hitler. He was kind of like Pan . . . only a thousand times worse."

"Yeah. Only maybe Peter was like him . . . when he was a kid," Mathias remarked.

"Anyhow, I just wanted to say . . . I'm sorry for the way I treated you, Mouse—err . . . Mathias . . . back then and I'd like to . . . start over," Rufio stammered. "I don't wanna be like Felix and his friends anymore . . . hurting little kids for fun . . . my dad says that's not good form."

Mathias studied the other boy for a moment. "If you really mean what you say . . . then I forgive you and we can start over."

"I do. Truce?" Rufio held out a hand.

"Truce," Mathias agreed, and took it. "But you'd better not break our deal."

"Yeah. You do that and my grandpa will make you sorry you were born," Henry warned. "Like he did to Felix."

"He did something to Felix?" cried Rufio. "Felix is like . . . totally a mean and nasty mo'fo!"

"You mean he _was_," corrected Mathias. "Until my Papa kicked his butt."

"I don't know what he did to him, but Felix doesn't even _look_ at me or Mathias or any of my family when we come into Granny's anymore," Henry said.

Rufio whistled. "Man, that's some serious shit! Felix was like Pan's right hand, the nastiest dog in the junkyard. _Nobody_ crossed him."

"Except Mr. Gold," Pinocchio stated.

"Yeah," Perry nodded. "Felix was always badass . . . till he met Mr. Gold, and then he found out who the _real_ badass was."

Henry nodded. "Yeah. You don't mess with my grandpa or anybody in his family or anybody he protects."

"Because Mr. Gold's the meanest son-of-a-bitch in Storybrooke!" chorused Nick and Perry.

Then Pinocchio whispered, "Perry . . . it's a good thing Papa couldn't hear you. You'd be eating Ivory."

"I know, I know," his older brother said, rolling his eyes. "But it's true."

"Only if you hurt somebody he loves," Mathias pointed out.

"Believe me, I won't!" Rufio said. "Anybody that can kick Felix's ass is like totally fuckin' _scary_. Like the Terminator."

"I think Mayor Mills is pretty scary too," Eva added.

"They're both scary," agreed her twin.

"Okay . . . so what are we playing?" asked Rufio.

"Knights vs. the Evil Sorceress," Henry answered.

"You can be on my team," Eva said. "I need a soldier to protect my back."

"Sure," Rufio said, then climbed into the castle.

**Page~*~*~*~*~Break**

One day about a week after Rufio joined them in their games down at the park, Gold came to pick up Mathias and saw the boy petting Pongo and talking with Archie. As he limped up to them, for his leg was bothering him today since it had rained and often the damp aggravated the injury, forcing him to use his cane, he watched his son petting the dog, noting the way the child's face lit up when he did so. He thought about how Mathias had seemed to be reading a lot more dog stories lately—after finishing Lassie Come Home he'd moved on to reading Jim Kjelegaard's Big Red series and wondered if that was Mathias' subtle hint that he would like to have a pet. Being Mathias, Rumple knew the boy would never outright ask for anything, it had been like pulling teeth to get him to even pick out clothes when they had gone shopping together with Belle.

"Hello, Dr. Hopper," Gold greeted the therapist.

"Hello, Mr. Gold. How are you?" Archie asked amiably.

"Fine, and I see Mathias has made a new friend," Rumple said, nodding down at Pongo, who was now licking the boy's face.

"Oh, well, Pongo loves kids," Archie chuckled. "And I've noticed that having him around during some of my sessions with children makes them calmer and relaxed."

"Have you done that with my son?" Gold asked, his voice lowered.

"Yes, several times. Mathias responds well to him and I've found that he's opened up to me a lot more when Pongo's around. There's just something comforting about a dog that children respond to."

"And you think that maybe . . . a pet would be a good thing for him? He's still having nightmares," Gold confided.

"Yes, I know. And I think that a dog would be an excellent idea. A pet loves you unconditionally, which is important for a boy like him. Though given his asthma, you might want to consider one that's hypoallergenic," Archie told him.

"Now there's an idea."

"You know, they're having Adopt-a-Pet day down at the animal shelter on Friday," the therapist said, and winked at Gold, saying this loud enough for Mathias to hear.

The boy, who had been focusing all his attention on the Dalmatian, looked up and saw Rumple. He stood up and cried, "Papa! I was just playing with Pongo." He brushed some white dog hair off his jeans. "Henry told me he's gonna volunteer to help walk the dogs that day. Can I help too?"

"Yes, if you'd like," Gold said, thinking that was a great way to get the boy to pick out a dog without letting him know that's what he was doing. He would talk it over with Belle tonight and see what she thought. "When do you need to be there?"

"Uh . . . I think Henry said ten o'clock, since the adopt part of it doesn't start till twelve or so. And we gotta brush them too so they look nice for people coming to see them," his son said eagerly.

"I'll call the shelter and make sure that's the right time," Rumple said. Then he winked at Archie as they bid him goodbye and Gold took Mathias back home.

**Page~*~*~*~*~Break**

On Friday, Gold dropped Mathias off at the shelter right at ten o'clock, and then while the little boy was talking with Henry, spoke privately with Charming and asked if he could note which dogs seemed to catch his son's eye.

"Oh, so you're thinking of—" Charming blurted.

"Yes, but I want it to be a surprise," Gold interjected quickly.

"Will do, Rumple," David said, grinning. Then he went and led the boys into the shelter's kennel area, where the dogs were.

Mathias spent a glorious two hours feeding, walking, petting, and brushing the dogs, getting licked to death and jumped up on. He loved playing with all the dogs, even the larger ones that nearly knocked him off his feet, though he was only allowed to walk the smaller ones, except for a few big dogs that knew how to walk quietly at the end of a lead.

One of those was an eight-month old Samoyed mix, a lively gentle female with a thick fluffy cream colored coat and beautiful blue eyes. She had one ear that stood up and one ear that flopped over, and the perpetual smiling face of her Samoyed mother.

"We have no idea what her father was," said David as he handed Mathias her lead. "The people who brought her in said he might have been a collie or a shepherd or who knows, but they had to give her up because they lost their home in Hurricane Sandy. In fact, that's what we've been calling her."

Mathias stroked her soft coat, and the dog grinned at him. "She's real nice, Mr. Nolan. She doesn't pull my arm off like Kelly and Boots," he said, referring to a pair of terriers that he'd walked a few moments ago.

"Yeah, she's a real sweetheart. I'd guess she's had some obedience training for her to be well-mannered like this," David said.

Mathias clucked to her, and the Samoyed-mix trotted alongside him, staying directly at his left side, smiling happily. He walked the dog all around the fenced in yard, crooning to her, "You're a good girl, aren't you?"

The dog wagged her tail at him, which she carried up over her back, like most of the northern husky breeds. She had a thick coat, which was almost a uniform creamy biscuit color, save for a "necklace" of darker fur around her ruff. She was about forty-five pounds, and David estimated that she might reach fifty-five when she finished growing.

Charming watched as the boy played with the dog, throwing a blue ball for her to fetch and noting how the dog seemed careful around the child, not stepping on him or shoving him, but clearly happy to play with him, giving him the ball when asked, then licking him afterwards. Soon the boy and the dog were running across the grass together, the lead trailing behind on the ground, as Mathias had dropped it in his excitement.

Henry was playing with a boxer nearby and called, "Hey, Mathias! Looks like she likes you!"

"She keeps licking me!" his relative shouted, giggling as the dog licked his face. "Watch this, Henry! She can do tricks!" Mathias threw the ball and told the dog to fetch it.

The dog promptly jumped up and caught the ball in her mouth, then trotted back and sat down, offering a paw to Mathias, before giving him the ball.

"Thank you!"

Grinning, she went and "bowed" to him before bouncing up and wagging her tail.

"See? She's a smart dog!" Mathias said, and went and fed her a dog biscuit.

Meanwhile, David called Gold on his cell and told him about the pair, saying, "This dog's obviously been with kids, and she's trained already, so if you don't take her, I'm sure somebody else will."

"We'll be over in a few minutes, David," Gold told him.

When they arrived at the shelter, David led them into the yard, where they saw Mathias calmly brushing the dog, who was standing like a statue while the child groomed her fur.

"Oh, Rumple! She's a lovely dog! Look at her face, she seems like she's smiling," Belle cried.

"And she's not yappy or jumpy either," Gold observed. "What do you think?"

"I think we need to take her home," Belle replied. Then she went over to pet the Samoyed-mix, saying to her son, "What a beautiful dog, Mathias!"

"Mama, isn't she sweet?" her son said, dropping the brush to go and grab her hand. "Look, she likes you to pet her like this," he demonstrated by scratching her behind her ears. The dog groaned and wagged her tail. Then she licked the boy's face.

Belle began petting her also, smiling to herself. "And her coat doesn't make you wheeze or anything?" she queried.

"Nope. I didn't need my inhaler once yet," her son answered. "See, now she looks all pretty, so somebody will want to take her home," he said, sounding wistful.

"That's good, dearie, because somebody does," Rumple said, coming up to them.

"They . . . they do?" Mathias said, his face falling as he realized he would now have to give up his playmate. "Where are they?"

"They are right here," Rumple said, smiling.

Mathias' eyes grew wide. "You mean . . . she's mine? To keep?"

"Actually we're only borrowing her," Rumple teased. "Yes, yours to keep, lad." Then he knelt and found himself getting licked by a very happy dog and hugged by an equally ecstatic child, while a blizzard of cream-colored hair swirled all over his Armani suit.

"And that's your surprise," Belle said, laughing. "Now let's take her home."

"Okay!" Mathias cried, then he pulled away from his father and ran across the grass to where Henry was walking a Cairn terrier, shouting, "Henry! Henry, I got a dog!"

**Page~*~*~*~*~Break**

"So have you thought of a name for her yet?" asked Belle as they sat in the den with their new family member stretched out by her feet.

Mathias was curled up next to his new friend, his hand tangled in her fur, and she had her head in his lap. "Well, they called her Sandy at the shelter, but I think she needs a better name."

"I agree," Rumple said. "She's too unique for a common name like that."

"I know, Papa. That's why I went online and looked up some," his son informed him. "She's a special dog and she needs a special name, like you gave me."

"That's right. And what have you decided?"

"Well, I looked at lots and lots of names, but the one I like best is . . . Fearchara," Mathias announced, pronouncing the name _fur-kara._

"Fearchara?" Belle repeated. "That sounds like a name from another language."

"It is, Mama. It's Scots-Gaelic," Mathias told her.

Rumple's eyes twinkled. "And do you know what it means, son?"

"Uh huh. It's a girl's name. And it means 'dear one'."

Belle burst out laughing. "Rumple! He's named the dog . . . oh my . . ."

"Go on and say it," her husband chuckled. "He's named the dog "dearie"."

"What's so funny? I thought it was a good name," Mathias said, sounding slightly dismayed.

"It _is_ a good name, and one that fits her, especially considering who she belongs to," Belle reassured him.

"You can say that again, dearie," Rumple smirked.

And then the newly named Fearchara barked and wagged her tail, clearly agreeing with him.

**A/N: I found the name Fearchara in a baby name book and thought it perfect for their new dog. I think I have the pronunciation right, but if not, anyone who speaks Gaelic may feel free to correct me. Thanks for reading! **


	16. Belief

**16**

**Belief**

Mathias walked his new dog just before he went to bed that night, reading a chapter of Irish Red to Belle and Rumple before he got into pajamas and went upstairs, Fearchara following him like a ghost. Soon after the boy had climbed into bed, his parents came up to tuck him in, finding the cream-colored dog on the bed with him, lying across the bed, smiling her signature grin.

Belle shook her head ruefully when she saw the furry animal stretched out on the bed. "You know, I really shouldn't let you have her on your bed with you, I'm not sure if it's good for your asthma to have a furry rug almost on top of you like that."

"Mama, m'okay," her son grumbled. "See? I can breathe fine, and I like her here. She keeps my feet warm and . . . umm . . . well, I like her by me."

Since this was practically the first time the child had ever voiced a contrary opinion to either of them, Belle didn't protest any more, instead stroking Fearchara's head gently, and saying, "You keep my Mathias safe, all right?"

Fearchara panted and yipped an affirmative at her, thumping her tail against the footboard.

"She says she will," Mathias translated, in case the adults didn't understand dog, the way kids seemed to.

Rumple petted the dog. "Of course she will. She's your dog now, and any dog will protect its master, even a gentle one like she is. Right, lass?"

Fearchara licked his hand.

"In bed with you," Belle ordered, and she pulled back the sheets.

Mathias crawled beneath the covers and Rumple pulled them up and asked if he had his inhaler nearby. "Uh . . . it's . . . in my pocket." He waved a hand at his pants, which were draped over his desk chair.

Rumple went and retrieved it, setting it beside him on the table, saying, "Mathias, you have to remember to put it next to you at night, just in case you wake up and need it."

"Okay, Papa. I'll remember."

"You do that," his father said, and ruffled his hair. "I know you can, since you have a memory like ten elephants."

Mathias grinned at that. Then Belle sat next to him and sang a lullaby to him until he snuggled down into the covers and fell asleep.

They tiptoed out of the room, leaving the door ajar slightly, the nightlight revolving, and Fearchara lying on the bed.

**Page~*~*~*~*~Break**

For three nights, Mathias slept well, without any nightmares, and Belle and Rumple began to hope they were gone for good, since Fearchara was there to keep him company. The Samoyed-mix was a clever and funny addition to their household, and made her family smile with the way she fetched the paper in the morning for Rumple, and Belle's slippers at night.

"Someone spent a lot of time with that dog," Rumple remarked, watching as his son playfully wrestled with her on the rug. "She knows more than the ordinary obedience commands and is well-mannered and friendly."

"I think whoever owned her before the shelter got her must have loved her very much," Belle surmised. "But at least she has a good home now with us, and Mathias loves her to death."

Rumple nodded. "It looks like Archie was right, and she's helping him with his nightmares."

But apparently they spoke too soon, for that night, the child dreamed again, this time of an event that had happened long before Pan had stolen Henry, when he had been captive in a cage made of vines, the butt of every joke, taunted and been the object of every refuse slinging boy in camp, save for a few.

As he woke gasping, his throat closing up, Fearchara whined and came up near him, nudging his hand and licking his face.

Mathias wrapped a hand around her neck while grabbing his inhaler with the other hand, though his fingers slipped and knocked it down.

"Oh no!" he yelped and went to reach for it, only to have it roll out of reach of his fingers across the floor.

Wheezing, he was about to get out of bed to fetch it when his dog jumped onto the floor and picked up the inhaler in her mouth. She reared up beside him and placed the item in his palm.

"Good girl! Good girl!" he gasped, before putting it to his lips.

"Mathias?" Belle suddenly appeared in the doorway, her hair trailing sail-like down her back, wearing her soft pink robe and slippers. "What's wrong, sweetie? Did you have another nightmare?"

Her son gazed at her, the inhaler lowered, and said, "Yeah. And then I went to grab my inhaler and . . . and I knocked it off the night table and it fell on the floor, but Fearchara went and got it and brought it to me. She knew I needed it, Mama!" One hand caressed the dog's head.

Belle came and hugged the dog. "You're such a smart girl, aren't you?" she crooned. "Such a smart brave dog to do something like that."

Fearchara wagged her tail, her blue eyes shining, and licked Belle happily. Then she leaped upon the bed next to Mathias and curled up against him, tucking her nose into her tail.

Belle came and sat on the edge of the bed, reaching out to caress her son's cheek. "Are you feeling a bit better now, son? Would you like some tea?"

Mathias shook his head. "No. But now . . . now I'm not tired. I don't think I can fall asleep." He looked down at his hands unhappily. "I'm sorry I woke you. You can go back to sleep, Mama. I'll just lay here with Fearchara till I fall asleep."

"Mathias! I'd never leave you alone after one of your nightmares!" Belle objected.

"You can," he insisted. "I woke you up. I'm always waking you or Papa up with my stupid dreams. I'm sorry." He looked away, ashamed.

Belle stroked his hair gently. "Mathias, you don't have to apologize for that. Not to me, not to your papa. It's okay."

"No, it's not!" her son sniffled. "I'm nothing but trouble . . . you can say it. I've always known that."

"Why? Because Peter told you so?" Belle demanded. "Is that how you know?"

Mathias shrugged. "It's true."

"No, it's not," she argued. "_Nothing_ that brat said is the truth! You're having nightmares because of _him_, Mathias," she told him, her voice throbbing passionately with righteous wrath. "Because of things he and his gang of bullies did to you for God knows how long! And you know something? That's all right. What's _not_ all right is for you to think it's wrong to come and ask me or your papa for help." She pulled his head around so he was looking at her. "Mathias, you're our son . . . and that means we help each other when we need to. You're not a bother or trouble because you're having nightmares . . . we love you and we _want_ to help you get better. And if that means coming in here every night after you have a nightmare and sitting with you or holding you or letting you cry all over us, we'll do it. Because that's what parents do. We're there for our children, all the time, whenever you need us . . . no matter what."

The little boy stared up at her, tears misting his vision. "I wish . . . I wish I could just forget about what happened, Mama . . . I hated it there, but I keep remembering it . . ."

Belle drew him into her arms. "I know. I know. Sometimes I do that too. Remember the bad things that happened to me . . .like when I was a prisoner of the Evil Queen."

"You? She kept you locked up?"

"Yes. For years and years. And tried to make me tell her how to hurt your papa. Or make me think I was going crazy. But finally I was set free . . . and yet, even though I was safe with your papa again . . . I still remembered that awful time . . . and I had nightmares too."

"How did you stop having them?"

"It took me a long time . . . but your papa helped," she told him. "He used to hug me just like he does you, until I stopped shaking and crying and being afraid. And eventually I learned to put all my bad memories in a box in my head and lock them up, because I didn't need to remember them anymore. Would you like to try that?"

Mathias nodded. "How?"

"Well, you think of a bad memory . . . and then you imagine a box and you put it inside and close the lid . . . and turn a key and lock it away," Belle instructed.

Mathias closed his eyes and thought of the dream he'd had, doing as his mama had suggested. It took maybe a second to imagine it locked away, and then he opened his eyes. "Mama, I did it!"

"Good. And how do you feel now?"

"Better," he admitted. Then he yawned. "I'm kind of sleepy."

"Close your eyes and I'll be right beside you," she reassured him.

He gave her a sweet smile and obeyed, closing his eyes, and keeping one hand buried in Fearchara's fur and the other clasping Belle's own.

Belle stayed there until she was sure her son was sleeping again, and only then did she return to her bedroom, where she curled up beside Rumple, who was sleeping, and hoped her technique would work for Mathias. At least it was a start, she reflected, and sometimes that was all one needed.

**Page~*~*~*~*~Break**

Gradually, between sessions with Archie, Belle's suggestion, waking up with Fearchara licking him, and both parents' love and support, Mathias began to get control of the nightmares. It was a slow process, and sometimes frustrating, but he was conquering them bit by bit, until by the third month he had come to Storybrooke, he was only having one or two every week, and usually they weren't as terrible as they had been.

Fearchara was a great help, accompanying the boy everywhere, and lying on his feet when he was doing assignments for Belle, or reading, or eating. He took her to the park now when he played with Henry and his friends, and all of the kids loved her. Even Rufio admitted she was a cute dog, and laughed when Mathias showed him all the tricks she could do.

It was on one of these occasions that Tinkerbell happened to come by, taking a walk in the park like she sometimes did, though usually she did so later in the evening or early in the morning. The former fairy felt awkward still around the citizens of Storybrooke, and even though she had called a truce with Mother Superior, did not have her magic or her wings back. It was something that bothered her more than a little, and even after some encouragement from Killian, she felt like she wasn't worthy to be a fairy.

She had asked Blue to restore her powers and her wings, but Blue had said only, "I cannot restore what has been taken away by a non-believer."

"But you're the one who took them away in the first place!" Tink had stormed.

"But I am not the one who keeps them from being returned," Blue said aggravatingly.

"Are you implying it's my fault?" Tink growled.

"No. But you are. And until you believe, you shall remain as you are now—a powerless shell of your former self." And with that the Blue Fairy vanished.

Tink had decided to go for a walk to cool off after that, which was how she had ended up in the park while the kids and Fearchara were playing.

Tink strode around angrily at first, cursing the Blue Fairy for her unbending attitude with each step she took, until the sound of children laughing reached her ears. She recalled that when she had been young, and still in command of her powers, she had loved to hear children laugh, considering it the purest and most beautiful expression of joy that could be found anywhere. It made her feel reborn.

Later, on Neverland, she had sometimes heard the Lost Boys laughing, but then it had not been joyful, but usually at the expense of someone else, thanks to Peter, and it saddened her.

Today, however, the laughter coming from the boys and girl as the dog chased them brought her all the way back to her youth . . . and she smiled and let her anger drift away as she listened to their giggles and Fearchara's barking.

She trotted down the path until she came to the wooden castle near the swings, rebuilt after a storm had blown it over, and watched as the children played, happy and carefree, the way children ought to be, unlike the unnatural competition and cruelty Pan had fostered among his Lost Boys.

Listening to them and seeing them, Tink could almost believe again that regaining her powers was possible.

Killian had told her once that she needed to focus on what she could do rather than what she couldn't . . . and he also had told her that he loved her no matter if she were a common mortal woman or quite a common fairy.

So Tink stood and watched as they ran in and out of the castle, noting that one of them was her lover's son, Rufio, and another was Mr. Gold's son, Mathias. _Starseekers, will wonders never cease! Their fathers can't stand one another, yet those two boys seem perfectly able to get along. _

Suddenly, the fluffy dog that always seemed to be around Mathias stopped chasing the kids and instead trotted over by Tink, sniffing her curiously and then sitting down and offering her a paw.

"Hello, Fearchara!" Tink greeted the dog. "Having fun?"

Fearchara barked and grinned, her blue eyes sparkling.

Tink grinned back.

Just then Mathias and Rufio looked up and spotted her with Fearchara.

"Tink!" cried Rufio, running up to her. "Did my dad send you to pick me up? It's only two thirty!"

"No, no. I was just taking a walk and happened to come by here and then Fearchara came to say hi," Tink reassured him.

"Oh!" Rufio sighed in relief. That meant he could play for another hour.

Mathias walked up to her and said softly, "Tink, how are you?"

"Well . . . I'm better than I was a few moments ago," she said honestly.

"What's the matter?" the little boy asked.

"You mean you don't know?" Rufio asked, astonished.

Mathias cocked his head. "About what?"

"About what? She's a fairy without wings!" Rufio said, looking at Mathias as if he were dense.

"I know that," retorted the younger boy. "I meant . . . is there anything else wrong?"

"No . . . just the usual," Tink sighed.

"Didja talk to the Mother Superior?" Rufio wanted to know. "Did she tell you what to do in order to get your wings back?"

"No. She spoke in riddles and kept blaming me for not believing or something like that," Tink snorted.

"Not believing?" Rufio repeated.

Tink nodded. "She seemed to imply that was why I don't have my wings back."

"That's crazy!" Rufio declared, rolling his eyes.

"Uh . . . no it's not," Mathias disagreed. "Don't you remember what Peter used to tell us about believing? He used to say that the one who believes the best shall bring back the magic to Neverland. And then he went and kidnapped Henry because he believed. I know Peter was a liar and stuff, but some of the things he said were true. Even my papa admits that."

"I can't wish my wings back, Mathias," Tink sighed. "I've tried to, hundreds of times."

Mathias looked thoughtful. "Maybe . . . maybe that's because it's not enough."

"What do you mean?" she asked, puzzled.

"I mean, maybe you need help . . . like I needed help with my nightmares. Did you ever read the book Peter Pan?"

"No. They have a book about that lying little snipe?" Tink scowled.

"Yeah, but it's not how it really was. But you're in it, Tink. And it tells about how you were saved because all these kids said they believed in fairies," Mathias recited. "So . . . maybe all you need is for some of us to believe in you."

"I don't know . . ." Tink said doubtfully.

"That could work!" Henry said, having come up just as Mathias was explaining his theory. "We should try it."

"What have we got to lose?" asked Rufio.

Mathias turned and called the other kids over and explained what they needed to do. "All you have to do is clap your hands three times and say 'I believe in fairies' and concentrate really hard."

"Okay! Let's do it!" Henry urged the rest of them.

"I'll start," Mathias said, and clapped his hands three times and said, "I believe in fairies!" and as he did so he concentrated very hard on believing in Tink.

Henry followed suit, and then so did Rufio, Pinocchio, Perry, and the Zimmerman twins.

"I believe in fairies!" echoed through the air, riding the wings of the children's belief.

Tinkerbell felt the air suddenly become supercharged with energy . . . and then it flowed around her . . . and she felt it tingle through her.

"Oh!"

"It's working!" cheered Mathias. "Do it again!"

"_I believe in fairies!_"

Again that wave of belief flowed around her, and Tink shuddered.

"C'mon, Tink!" Rufio yelled. "Believe!"

"Take our belief and use it to believe in yourself," Mathias urged, knowing that was important.

Tink shut her eyes and took a deep breath. Believe. Once she had believed in herself.

Once . . . when she was young and idealistic.

Before Regina had betrayed her.

Before Blue had condemned her.

The children clapped again and chanted the refrain.

"You can do it, Tink!" crowed Rufio.

_Believe. And you can do anything. Believe._

She felt the possibilities swirling about her, the hopeful belief of these children . . . and then she went and clasped the possibilities in her hands, seeing them for the first time not as what was done and gone, but what should be . . . and it was then that she realized all she had to do to make the dream a reality was to believe, thoroughly and completely in herself.

She thought of her exile on Neverland, and how she had lost her faith in herself as the years went by . . . and then she had found something to believe in again while helping the Charmings, Hook, Regina and Emma rescue Wendy . . . and find Henry. She remembered Hook telling her that maybe all she needed was faith and trust . . . and a little pixie dust.

_I believe in fairies._

The children's belief surrounded her, buoying her up on waves of glittering hope and faith.

She reached into a pocket and withdrew the last bit of pixie dust she had managed to bring out of Neverland.

She opened her eyes and stared at it.

It was glowing slightly.

_All you have to do is believe._

She met the eyes of each of the children.

_I believe . . . in myself._

Suddenly the pixie dust exploded outward, drifting all over her in a cloud of silvery golden sparkles.

She felt the magic enter her, change her, and then she gasped as wings grew from her back again and magic coursed through her.

"Yes!" Rufio pumped his fist in the air.

"You're a fairy again!" chorused the Zimmerman twins.

Tink fluttered her wings and held out her hand, where a ball of light bloomed in answer to her will. "I'm me again!" she couldn't stop smiling. She leaped about and flew up into the air, barely able to contain her joy.

Then she flew around the boys' heads, and listened to the chiming of bells as she did so.

When she landed, she went and put her hands on Mathias. "Thank you, Mathias, for believing in me."

Mathias blushed. "But . . . it wasn't just me. We all did it . . . and so did you."

"But without you thinking of that idea, I'd still be moping around. I owe you, little Gold." Tink declared, then she bent and kissed his forehead. "A fairy's kiss bestows a fairy's blessing."

Mathias just nodded, feeling himself turn red. He didn't have the heart to tell her that no fairy blessing could come of her kiss, not for one who was magic resistant. Still, it was a lovely thought.

Tink was so happy she was literally walking on air. "Rufio! I have to go home and tell your dad!"

"I'll see you there," Rufio said, and waved as Tink suddenly altered her size and became tiny, then flew away to inform Killian of her new status.

**Page~*~*~*~*~Break**

Mathias played with his friends for another half-an-hour before he decided to go and meet his father down at the pawnshop and tell him the good news. He whistled to Fearchara and together he and the dog ran down the sidewalk on Main Street, after he had taken a puff of his inhaler.

Fearchara trotted easily along beside him, not even needing a lead any longer, for she almost never left his side, unless he was playing in the park. The Samoyed mix walked alertly at the child's side, her one ear pricked, and her other flopped over, rather like a collie's, her tongue hanging out a little from her mouth.

Ruby waved as they passed Granny's, and so did Marco as they went by. Almost everyone in Storybrooke recognized Mathias, and by extension Fearchara, his furry shadow.

Soon the boy and the dog reached their destination, and Mathias shoved open the shop door, making the bell jingle crazily, yelling, "Papa! Papa!"

Rumple came out of the back room like a shot. "Mathias? What's wrong, dearie?"

"Nothing, Papa," his son answered, holding open the door for Fearchara to come in.

"Nothing makes you scream like you're being stretched on the rack?" Rumple frowned. "You scared me half to death, you little scamp."

"Sorry. But I had to tell you . . . Tink's got her wings back. She's a fairy again," Mathias said excitedly, running to him.

"She does? And how'd that little miracle happen?" asked Gold.

"I told her about what I'd read in the Peter Pan book," Mathias explained. "You know, the part about believing in fairies . . ." he went on to explain how he and all his friends had believed in her . . . which made her believe in herself . . . and regain her wings and powers.

"You're the cleverest boy in Storybrooke, lad," his father chuckled, then he hugged the boy to him.

Mathias threw his arms around Rumple's waist and buried his face in Rumple's suit, loving the smell of clean linen and spiced shaving cream that always seemed to cling to him. He felt the glimmer of pride quiver through him.

Suddenly the shop bell tinkled again, and Rumple looked up and released his son, planning to greet a customer, saying, "Hello. How may I help you?"

The woman was small, with reddish hair and dancing green eyes, wearing a pink skirt and top, with silvery shoes. She had a petite face, with a snub nose and a mouth that had permanent laugh lines around it.

Rumple knew he'd never set eyes on her before . . . and yet he recognized her somehow.

The woman smiled. "I believe you can . . . Rumplestiltkin. That is your name, correct?"

"It is," he nodded. "Who are you, my lady?"

She tossed her head, making her curls bounce, and once again he could swear he'd seen her do that before. "Then you don't recognize me, dearie?"

"Recognize you?" he sputtered. "I've never seen you before in my life!"

"No? Maybe this will help?" she suggested, then she began to sing, her voice lilting and melodic.

Both the song and the singer was awfully familiar, Rumple could swear he'd heard it before . . . long ago, when he was wee lad . . . when he lived with his mama and papa in their small cottage . . . his mother used to sing to him just like that . . .

She gazed at him again, and in her eyes was a look of profound regret . . . it reminded him of how he would look at Bae sometimes . . . and also a love so profound he was mesmerized.

"Do you know me now, Rumple?"

"I . . . my mother . . . used to sing me that very song . . ."

"I know. She sang it to you when she carried you in her womb. And again when she rocked your cradle on the hearth while she spun . . .and when she tucked you into bed at night with the patchwork quilt she had made . . ."

He gaped at her. "How on earth do you know that? _No one_ knows that! No one except me. Who are you?"

"For many years, in another land, I was known as Glinda. But that wasn't my true name. It was mispronounced by the little people. But my true name . . . is Glenna. The Good Witch of the North."

Rumple felt his jaw come unhinged and fall onto the floor. "No . . . it can't be . . . my mother _died_ . . . Papa said so! She died . . . he found her lying in bed, dead from the mountain fever . . ."

"And he lied, Rumple. For I wasn't dead at all, but traded away in one of his blasted confidence games . . . to a shady procurer of pretty magical women . . . . and he took me far away, to another realm, called Oz. Where I've been for the past . . . I've lost track of time . . . years."

Then she gave him a brilliant grin, one exactly like his own, and it was that which caused him to whisper, "_Mama? Is it . . . really you?"_

"Always, dearie," she replied, and then he knew the truth.

His mother had not died that day, but been spirited away to a land east of the sun and west of the moon and now she had returned.


	17. Glenna's Story

**17**

**Glenna's Story**

Rumple still felt like he'd been shellshocked as he looked at the woman he now recalled was his mother. For so long he had been accustomed to thinking of her as dead and gone, to have her here before him, living and breathing, was cause for astonishment, awe, and even a bit of anguish, as he considered all those years he had spent alone, believing his family gone forever. He found himself blinking back tears.

Glenna was having the same problem, her green eyes misty with them, and she started forward, intending to embrace her child, halted for a moment, then abruptly continued, and hugged her now-grown son. "Rumple, I'm so sorry . . . but I had no way of coming to find you until now," she said, sniffling into his shoulder, for he was taller than she was, her little boy was all grown up. "I always intended to come back for you, son, but leaving Oz is complicated, even for one such as I am . . ." she abruptly lost her voice, regret and fear stealing it away, and she wept into Rumple's jacket.

"Mama, don't. Don't cry," her son whispered, hugging her to him, feeling his own eyes start leaking tears in a visceral response to hers. "Whatever happened to you . . . it was _his_ fault . . . and he's lucky he's dead, the rotten bastard, otherwise I'd have to beat his head into a wall for what he's done to us." He patted her back, tears now flowing from his own eyes. He was certain Mathias probably thought they were both insane, crying all over each other, two familiar strangers.

Until a little hand tugged on his pocket and Mathias said, "Papa, here," and held out a box of tissues.

Rumple took one and then handed another to Glenna. "Thanks."

Glenna mopped her face with it, and said ruefully, "Ah, I must look a sight, as my granny used to say." She looked down at Mathias. "And who's this fine laddie?"

"My son, Mathias," Rumple said.

"Are you really my grandma?" Mathias asked curiously, holding out his hand to the woman.

"Yes, I am, dearie," Glenna said, smiling at him, as she shook his hand. "You remind me of your papa when he was around your age. How old are you?"

"Uh . . . I think seven, but I don't really know, since Peter kidnapped me and took me away to Neverland, and before that I was just another orphan, till Papa adopted me," Mathias told her frankly.

"My goodness!" Glenna exclaimed. "Rumple . . . he's not blood? He looks very similar to you."

"I know. It's rather uncanny," her son admitted. "But he's my son in every way save that." He put a hand on Mathias's shoulder.

Glenna nodded. "Indeed. A son is a son, no matter if they're blood or adopted. 'Tis what my stepfather always said, and how he always treated me . . . like his own daughter."

Fearchara trotted over, sniffing Glenna's shoes curiously.

"Grandma, say hello to Fearchara," Mathias said. He snapped his fingers and the dog immediately sat and offered her paw to the witch.

"Why, hello there, pretty lass!" Glenna greeted, taking the dog's paw. "Such nice manners you have. And a fine Scots name too!"

"I named her that myself," Mathias said proudly.

"Then you . . . know what it means?" Rumple stared at his mother.

"That I do, for my granny taught me some of the Gaelic, a wee bit before she passed," Glenna informed him.

"You . . . You're from here?" Rumple gasped, trying to figure it all out.

Glenna nodded, then said, "I know, it's very confusing. Why don't I start from the beginning and explain it all?"

"Yes, that would be fine, but maybe we should do that at home?" Rumple suggested. "Let me close up my shop and I'll take you there. My fiancée, Belle, should be home from the library soon and you can meet her and then we can all listen to your story, Mama."

"That's very sensible, Rumple," agreed Glenna, then she glanced around the shop and said, "You have a nice place here."

"It's just a small antique and pawnshop," Rumple coughed, feeling torn between awkwardness and pride. He quickly locked up the shop and turned the sign to Closed before leading the way out back to where his Cadillac was parked.

Once they had all got into the car, with Glenna in the front and Fearchara and Mathias in the back, Gold drove home, calling Belle on the way and explaining that he had a surprise visitor he wanted her to meet.

**Page~*~*~*~*~Break**

Belle was quite surprised, though pleasantly so, to meet Rumple's mother. The older woman seemed rather ageless, though Belle suspected that was due to her magic, since most sorceresses seemed to age differently. She found Glenna to be friendly and inviting, and unlike most mother-in-laws, not at all judgmental of the fact that Belle was living with her son while they weren't married.

Belle made tea, using the blue willow tea service, and Mathias helped by taking out some cinnamon raisin bread, butter, and some Lorna Doons he found in the pantry.

Once everyone was settled with some tea, bread, and cookies, Glenna began to tell her story, her mellifluous voice tinged with the hint of a Scottish accent.

"Back in Oz, among the little people who call themselves Munchkins, I'm known as Glinda, the Good Witch of the North. But, as I told Rumple and Mathias, that's not my true name. It was mispronounced by the Munchkin leader, and it stuck, so I am Glinda there." She shrugged. "Be that as it may, my true name is Glenna . . . Glenna MacLeod-Carlyle, to be exact, born in the Highlands of Glen Finnan in the year 1919, to Mary and Connor MacLeod. My papa was a pilot, an American of Scots descent, come to fight in the Great War, as he called it then, but you would know it as World War I. He fell in love with a pretty Scottish lass and stayed on to marry her and have me. He was later killed in a freak accident testing a new fighter plane when I was six. Two years later, though, my mama met Joe Carlyle, a young mason from Glasgow, and he quite enchanted her, so much so that she married him within the year and we moved from the tiny house in the Highlands to a rather grand place in the big city. Joe was a successful businessman and he loved both me and my mama. He called me his "little lass" and adopted me and gave me his name, even though most men wouldna have cared to do so. He was a good papa to me and to my little brother Jamie.

"Now, in Glen Finnan, the people knew me and also knew of the reputation my mama's family had of being wise women—we were known for our herbal remedies and wisdom and our foresight. The villagers came to us when they needed help resolving sommat, and sometimes for predictions in water and fire—like if they'd get a new job or marry so-and-so, t'was a common thing there in the Highlands.

"I had always been a fae child, born with the gift of knowing, as they called it then—it was actually the gift of magic—and I learned how to See in water and intuit things at a young age. I thought nothing of it until we moved from the Highlands down to Joe's big house in Glasgow, where such things were considered superstition and nonsense.

"I quickly became an outcast among the other girls and boys, laughed at for my odd ways and eerie looks, called names and teased for being a "smarty-pants" witch-child. I grew up knowing I was different, and never quite fitting in. By the time I was eighteen, I was labeled "witchy Glenna" and no boy would look twice at me. My parents despaired of ever finding a match for me.

"Then came World War II, and the German blitzkrieg. They bombed not only London, but Edinburgh and Glasgow too, and in one of their midnight raids, a bomb landed upon the street where we were running to get to the shelter . . . and it killed my family-all except me, whose magic somehow opened a portal to the Enchanted Forest and I fell into it."

"How terrible!" Belle murmured sympathetically.

"Aye . . . for there I was, unconscious in a strange world, with no kin . . . lying in the road where anyone might have found me . . . and luckily the ones who did were a kindly couple returning from the market. They were simple folk, a weaver named Marcus and his wife Alanna, and they put me on their cart and took me home to nurse, despite my odd clothing and such. They had a son, Malcolm, a charming rascal, and I, foolish girl that I was, fell head over heels in love with the rogue," Glenna sighed.

"My father," Rumple snorted.

"Aye, lad. I was very grateful for their care, and being who and what I was, considered Malcolm as good as any prince in a fairy tale, to even consider me as his wife. He had a silver tongue, and a handsome face, and I thought he really loved me. Plus, his kin became like the family I'd lost, and I couldn't bear to lose them. So we were married, and I thought for a while my life was wonderful.

"Marcus had given us money for a cottage, and Alanna had taught me how to spin and weave and make simples . . . potions for healing and protection, and no one scorned me for my gift of foresight. And Malcolm was, at first, a good husband to me, and worked alongside his father as a Guild weaver.

"We were content, or so I thought, until we had a run of verra bad luck, a blight struck our crops and sheep, and decimated our flock, the old duke died and the new one, his nephew, was a cruel hard man who cared nothing for the lives of his people. He raised our taxes and feasted while we starved, and sickness swept through the land and carried off Marcus one spring day. Alanna followed him within the year, of a broken heart, and Malcolm and I inherited what they had saved.

"Which was a good thing, for I was expecting by then, and we needed everything we could get.

"For a time, Malcolm kept his Guild status, but then he fell in with some typical rogues down at the tavern, and turned his hand to gambling and cheating honest folk instead.

"I still brought in money with my spinning and my simples, and in vain I begged him to stop, but he swore it was only for a while, and after the baby was born he'd quit. He lied, of course, and continued with his schemes and fraud.

"We had many rows over that, and by the time you were born, Rumple, I was ready to walk out on him, but then he begged me to stay, and swore he'd change, and I believed him. Then too, I had a baby to care for, and so I stayed. I named you Rumplestiltskin, after the legendary spinner who could spin straw into gold, for even then I could sense you had inherited my gift, son, and I wanted to give you a name that people would remember.

"For awhile, things were good between your papa and me, as Malcolm kept his promise and stopped gambling . . . or so I thought. But then came the Ogre Wars and the duke began drafting all the men into his army.

"Malcolm didn't want to fight, he swore he would rather run off then risk getting made a meal of by an ogre, and so he devised a scheme that would ensure he never had to fight . . . he created a lottery, and all able-bodied young men had to draw lots to see which ones were chosen to fight in the army. Only he made certain to fix it so his name never came up . . . and so he was safe and after awhile returned to his gambling and confidence ways.

"I was horrified once I'd figured out what he'd done, but I couldn't do much, since I had a little child to look after and people would assume I was in cahoots with Malcolm did his scheme ever become known. So I kept silent . . . until the day I discovered him playing a game of a different sort with one of the wenches down at the Golden Boar . . . and then I realized that he was truly a wretched rogue, and I threatened to expose him for the cheat he was, and threw him out of the house."

"Good for you, Mama!" Rumple said approvingly.

"What happened then?" asked Belle.

"Ah, that was my first mistake . . . assuming that Malcolm would go tamely into the night with his piece of fluff . . . for though he didn't love me or even Rumple, he loved the comforts I brought him . . . and he didn't want to lose them. So he devised an awful scheme to be rid of me once and for all . . . and he made a deal with this scoundrel called Mars to take me off to someone who wanted . . . err . . . magical women . . . and in order to make me unable to fight myself free of him, Malcolm began slowly dosing me with a special poison . . . one that made me ill and weak . . . he put it in my herbal tonic, knowing full well I'd try and cure myself . . . but all I was doing was making myself sicker . . . until finally I passed out . . . and he gave me to the vile cretin as his toy . . . and made up a lie that I'd died of the mountain fever."

Rumple scowled. "That miserable bastard! I remember that day . . . he told me I couldn't go near you because then I might get the sickness, and he burned what I thought—what we all thought—was your body, and had a funeral for you. And after a week he went right back to his old ways . . . and left me with Elizabeth and Maura Spinner, your friends, since he couldn't be bothered looking after me."

Glenna snorted. "Ah, Rumple! My poor boy! But maybe you were better off with them, they were good people, and better them than your wastrel father. Meanwhile, I was drugged and trapped with magical bracers by that scum Mars, and I couldn't do anything to get away. He took me through several portals, to a place called Wayfarer's End, one of the biggest dives in the all the realms, and there he planned to sell me to the highest bidder. I was young, I was a Seer, and I was worth a fortune to those who liked to break their women and steal their powers. I would have ended up in sorry straits, but for a chance encounter with a woman named Elsingra.

"Now Elsingra came of a race of Witches in her land, which was called Oz, and she was always on the lookout for a new slave or two. I . . appealed to her and she bought me and took me to her realm. She was the Wicked Witch of the East, and for five long years I was her servant in her high tower, her servant and eventually her apprentice, as I discovered that I had more than just the Sight, much more.

"I was determined to learn as much magic as I could, so I could go home again, back to you, Rumple, and that was what I did. I played a game of cat and mouse with her, and one day, when I had learned enough, I challenged her to a duel. She thought she could beat me, but I surprised her, and I won.

"Then I took her most prized possession, a pair of ruby slippers that could travel dimensions, and I fled with them. But I soon found that the slippers would not work for me. I didn't know why then, though later I discovered their true nature. So I was forced to rely only on my wits and me newfound powers. I took shelter with the Munchkins, and showed them that I wasn't like the other Witches they knew, all sisters, and all evil.

"I became their protector, and called myself the Good Witch of the North, since the others had taken the other directions for their names, and became their opposite. But even as I lived among the Munchkins and kept them safe, I also kept searching for a way back to the Enchanted Forest. But that's the funny thing about Oz—you can get there fairly easily, but getting out is another story. There are . . . blocks upon those wishing to leave, especially magical folk, it's as if the land wishes us to always remain, and for many many years, I could not do so, not with all the magic at my command."

"But you have now," Rumple pointed out.

"Yes, but these are special circumstances," his mother replied. "And thus, for long years, I fought many an action against the Wicked Witches, who wished to take over all of Oz and put the native peoples to the sword or make them slaves. It was in the midst of one of those conflicts that the Wizard comes into the story."

"Like in _The Wizard of Oz_?" Mathias cried. "I know that story! Mama read to me from the library. And we've seen the movie too. Look!" He jumped up from the table and ran into the den, where he went through the DVD cabinet until he located the movie, then came back and showed his grandmother.

Glenna examined the movie and read the back of it, and murmured, "How very interesting!"

"And here's the book!" Mathias ran and got it down from the bookshelf also.

"So . . . the tales have made their way here also," Glenna mused. "I wonder . . ."

"So, was the Wizard a real one, Grandma, or just a man in a balloon?" was the boy's next question.

"Oh, he was a real one, all right. Though he did come by balloon . . . but he was like me . . . a magic worker . . . until the Wicked Witch of the West stole his magic and he became an ordinary man, and he ruled over the Emerald City and used science because that was all he had left after she broke him," Glenna replied sadly. "As I said before—"

"Then if the Wizard is real, is Dorothy real too?" Mathias interrupted. "And Toto and the Scarecrow, the Tin Woodman, and the Cowardly Lion?"

"Mathias!" Rumple frowned at his son. "What's gotten into you, lad? You know better than to interrupt like that."

The little boy gulped and muttered, "Sorry," to his teacup.

"Oh, leave the boy be, Rumple," Glenna said. "He's just excited . . . and reminds me of another little boy I used to know . . . who used to ask me to hurry up when we got to the interesting parts."

Rumple blushed. "You . . . I . . . don't remember doing that!"

Glenna waved a finger at him. "But I do, my lad!" she grinned at him. "Like I said, your son is very much like you, Rumple!"

Belle started laughing at the look on her husband's face—chagrin and resignation.

"What's so funny?" he demanded of her.

"You," she answered, smirking. "Thinking you can pretend you were so perfect to your own mother."

"Belle!"

Glenna snickered. "Oh, he was a good lad . . . most of the time. Except when he wasn't . . . then he was as mischievous as a barrel of monkeys!"

"Mama!" Rumple gasped, blushing even further.

Even Mathias started giggling a little, amused at the idea that his papa was ever a mischievous little boy.

"All right. Maybe we should stop telling stories for now, and . . . err . . . think about supper," Rumple said quickly.

"I have some ground beef in the fridge," Belle mused, still chuckling. "We could have hamburgers."

"Or shepherd's pie. I can make a wickedly good one, if I do say so myself!" Glenna offered.

"Oh, but I couldn't . . ." Belle began. "You're our guest . . ."

"Don't be silly, Belle! I'm also family, and I haven't had anyone to make shepherd's pie for since Rumple was a lad younger than your own," Glenna argued.

"Okay . . . if you'd like," Belle smiled at her.

"I would!" Glenna nodded. "Now show me where you keep your vegetables and so on."

"I can help!" Mathias said eagerly.

"Hold it, mister!" Rumple put out a hand. "I think first you need to walk Fearchara and give her some water and food." He pointed to a dry erase board hanging on the wall with a schedule written on it in colored markers. Today was Friday, and there was no check mark next to _FEED THE DOG SUPPER, GIVE FRESH WATER, and PM WALK. _

"Oh. I kind of forgot," the little boy admitted. Then he whistled. "C'mon, Fearchara! Want to go out?"

The dog bounded up from beneath the table and stood alertly at the back door, wagging her tail and barking once.

Mathias stampeded through the door, and Fearchara raced after him into the yard. The door banged shut behind him.

"I don't know what's come over him," Rumple muttered as he gazed after his son. "He's never this . . . noisy. It's like he forgot all the manners I taught him."

"Rumple, he's just a little boy," Glenna reminded him.

"I know, but Mama, he's not normally like this," her son hastened to explain about what had happened to Mathias on Neverland.

Glenna listened as she and Belle peeled potatoes and cut up carrots, onions, and celery, then she said once Rumple had finished, "That poor child! Rumple, maybe this is a good sign though. That he's finally stopped thinking he needs to be . . . perfect all the time. And he's starting to act more like every other little boy his age."

Belle nodded. "I think Glenna's right. Not that I want him to misbehave but . . ."

"But all children get into trouble," her mother-in-law finished. "It's a normal thing, Rumple."

Rumple looked thoughtful. "Hmm . . . maybe you're right. It's just . . . it caught me by surprise."

"You'll get used to it, laddie," his mother said. "We all did." Then she winked at him pointedly while chopping up a carrot.

Rumple helped prepare the ground beef in a pan while Glenna cooked the potatoes and Belle made the gravy to go over the meat and vegetables.

By the time Mathias and Fearchara came into the house again, savory smells were coming from the pan on the stove. "Mmm! What smells so good?"

"That's my shepherd's pie, dearie," his grandmother answered.

Fearchara came around the counter and began licking some gravy that had dripped onto the floor. Rumple saw and said, "Mathias, aren't you forgetting something?"

The little boy looked up from where he was leaning on the counter, watching Glenna mash potatoes. "What, Papa?"

Rumple pointed again to dry erase board. "Now look at your dog, son." He indicated where Fearchara was still licking the floor by Belle's feet.

"Oh!" Mathias jumped up and ran over to grab the dog's dishes. "I'm sorry, Fearchara." He went and dragged the plastic container of Blue Buffalo dog food out of the pantry and began scooping it into the dog's dish hastily, overfilling it until it fell on the floor. Then he went and filled up her water dish with a small pitcher until it almost overflowed. "Okay, girl! Supper!"

Fearchara came around the counter at a trot, and began gulping the food down, scattering some of it all over.

Mathias glanced down and groaned. "Oops!" Then he tried to drag the dog away from the food. "Fearchara, you're making a mess!"

Fearchara whined, not understanding why she was being pulled away from her food, and planted her feet on the floor.

"Come on, you're in the way!" Mathias panted, tugging on her collar.

But the Samoyed-mix refused to budge, and the child slipped on the tile and knocked the dish right over . . . and all the food spilled onto the floor.

Rumple gaped at the pair and the floor, then said, "Okay. Who are you and what have you done with my son?"

Mathias stared at the mess and started sniffling. "I'm sorry! I'll clean it up!" He cringed, waiting for Rumple to start yelling at him.

"Please do," was all his father said, and handed him the broom and a dustpan. "And next time don't be in such a rush, okay?"

Mathias heaved a sigh of relief and muttered, "Yessir," then turned to sweep up the spilled food.

Only to see Fearchara happily eating it off the floor.

"Aww! Papa, look what she's doing!"

"On second thought, maybe you don't have to," Rumple chuckled as the dog vacuumed up every bit of food. He took the broom and dustpan back from his son and said, "Now go wash your hands and then set the table."

"Okay, Papa!" Mathias said, then darted into the bathroom.

Rumple just shook his head, and thought this would certainly take some getting used to.

**A/N: So how did you like Glenna's story? There are several Easter Eggs in it, see if you can spot some references to another popular TV show as well as a few references to my favorite actor as well. **


	18. The Ruby Slippers of Oz

**18**

**The Ruby Slippers of Oz**

Glenna's shepherd's pie was accompanied by a green salad and iced tea with fresh lemon. All of them enjoyed it, especially Mathias, who said it was wonderful. There was so much of it, however, that Belle said they could save the rest for lunch tomorrow, and then Rumple and Mathias cleaned up the kitchen, putting some of the dishes in the dishwasher and Rumple left the pan to soak in the sink while Mathias washed the table and swept the floor.

Once the kitchen had been set to rights, Glenna offered to tell the rest of her story, which was also the story of Dorothy Gale, and her companions, the Scarecrow, Tin Woodman, and the Cowardly Lion. "You asked me before, Mathias, about them, and now I shall tell you that yes, Dorothy was a real little girl. She was twelve when she arrived in Oz, like the rest of us, under odd circumstances. A cyclone had created a portal from her home in Topeka, Kansas to Oz, and she did indeed come through it with her Cairn terrier, Toto."

Mathias' eyes grew wide. "Then . . . did a house really fall on the Wicked Witch of the East?"

"Yes, that part was true," Glenna nodded. "And she died with the ruby slippers on . . . the very same slippers she had snuck into my tower and stole from me. You see, there is one thing you need to know about the slippers . . . those with evil intentions not only cannot use them, but stealing them carries a high price. They are cursed with bad luck and trouble, and misfortune follows them like an ill wind. Thus it was with Elsingra, my old mistress in the Magical Arts. She ought to have known better, but she was still smarting after my defeat of her and determined to take back what was hers, even though when we dueled, one of my terms if I defeated her was the slippers."

"But you said you couldn't use them," Belle remarked.

"That's right. I couldn't. But young Dorothy could. I gave her the slippers as protection against the Wicked Witch of the South, who was hunting her down in revenge for the death of her elder sister. Elvira was her name, and later her other sister, the Wicked Witch of the West, Elspira, joined her. I could not go with Dorothy to the Emerald City to see the Wizard, as then I would leave the Munchkins defenseless. So I asked the Scarecrow to go with her," Glenna recounted.

"So there really was a Scarecrow?" asked Mathias.

"Oh, yes. But the Scarecrow was under a curse. He had once been a man, a very smart man called Errol, and the Wicked Witch of the East wanted him as her paramour, dearie. But Errol spurned her, and she cursed him to be "a straw man with a head full of fluff" and so he became the Scarecrow. He came to me to break the curse, but I needed an emerald from the Wizard, and at the time he wasn't speaking with me because of a misunderstanding over a wand of transfiguration.

"So he decided to accompany Dorothy to the Emerald City and along the way they met the Tin Woodman, who was also under a curse, he had been a woodcutter in the forest near the Wicked Witch of the West's castle, and refused to let her cut down an old tree for one of her spells, and she cursed him to become a suit of armor and stole his heart."

"So he went with her too," Mathias said. "What was his real name?"

"Kane," Glenna answered. "Supposedly, the Wizard could give him an artificial heart that would be as good as his old one. But he didn't realize that Elspira could control him with his heart, and so it proved a liability on their quest. Eventually they were joined by the Lion, who was a Talking Beast, and was not really a coward, but a pacifist, though his kind thought him so because he refused to fight in their Pride Games and drove him out of his land."

"Did he have another name?" queried Rumple.

"Yes, but none you could pronounce," Glenna answered. "So we shall just call him the Lion. They went on a long journey, following the Yellowbrick Road, which was the only safe path through the Wicked Witch of the West's kingdom, and on the way they had many harrowing adventures, mostly due to Elspira trying to kill all of them. But finally they reached the Emerald City, only to find that in order for the Wizard to help them, he wanted something in return . . . namely some magical dust which would enable him to get his balloon to fly beyond the horizon and take him home. And such dust was only found in the Wicked Witch's castle."

"I know what kind of dust it was!" Mathias said excitedly.

"Do you now, lad?" chuckled Glenna, her eyes twinkling.

"Yes! There's only one kind of dust that can make you fly. Pixie dust!" Mathias declared triumphantly.

"Right you are. You're a smart boy," Glenna praised. "And they had to go right into the heart of Elspira's stronghold to get it. And here's where things got dicey. First they had to pass the field of Dreaming Poppies, and the Lion ended up succumbing to them, but not the other three, because Scarecrow and Tin Woodman were no longer "living" in a way and Dorothy . . . because Dorothy had a special ability she had never known she possessed—an innate resistance to magic. That enabled her to walk through the field unscathed, and when the Wicked Witch used Kane's heart against him, and he attacked his companions, Dorothy managed to escape by jumping into a stream, for Kane would never go near water, as he would rust. So Elspira sent her flying monkeys to capture Dorothy, and capture her they did."

"But Dorothy killed the Witch, right?" recalled Mathias.

"Killed her? Oh no. She defeated her, but didn't destroy her. It's very hard to destroy a Witch, child," Glenna told him. "But first she was made Elspira's servant, much as I had been once. But unlike me, the Witch's spells of charm and compulsion did not hold with Dorothy, and so she learned by using her wits where Elspira kept the pixie dust, and also her greatest weakness . . . water."

""Then she threw a bucket of water on her, right?" guessed Belle.

"It wasn't quite as simple as that," Glenna chuckled. "The water needed to be strengthened by a magical object, and so Dorothy went and dipped her feet in the cistern of the castle, and the slippers strengthened the water. She took some in a vial and hid it under her dress. Then she waited for the right moment to use it. In the meantime she discovered not only where the pixie dust was, but also Kane's heart, in a wooden casket. She managed to take them both while the Witch was out one day, putting down some rebellion on the border, started by the Scarecrow and his companions.

"Dorothy tried to escape then, along with Toto, but she was caught by one of the monkey guards and he brought her right to Elspira when she returned, still angry over the revolt. And when Elspira went to curse her, Dorothy rebounded her magic, and then threw the vial of strengthened water on her—causing her grievous injury. It knocked her out, and Dorothy was free."

"Now there's a girl after my own heart," Belle grinned.

"Yes, she was a very clever and resourceful little girl," Glenna agreed. "She was reunited with her companions, and she gave Kane back his heart and he was restored to a man again. They returned to the Wizard and gave him the dust, and he gave the Scarecrow an emerald and offered to take Dorothy home with him in his balloon.

"But just as she was going to get into the balloon, Toto ran off, and she had to chase him. Before they could get into the balloon, the ropes snapped since the pixie dust was enhanced by the wind blowing that day, and the Wizard was gone.

"It was then that I came to her, and restored the Scarecrow to his proper self and told Dorothy that if she believed, she could used the ruby slippers to return home to Kansas," Glenna said. "Because by then I had figured something out . . . the slippers were meant to take a non-magical person across dimensions . . . and that was what they did. So Dorothy returned home to her family . . . and the slippers returned to Oz, where I put them away for safekeeping."

"What happened to the Wizard?" Mathias wanted to know. "Did he ever get home?"

"Yes . . . but I need to take a look at that book again," Glenna mused. "The one about Oz."

Mathias went and showed it to her. "Here, Grandma."

Glenna paged through it, nodding in certain spots, then looked hard at the author's name and flipped to the back of the book to see his bio. "Ah! I thought as much! Frank, you sly old devil!"

"What do you mean, Mama?" asked Rumple.

"I mean that _he_ wrote this account . . . disguised as a children's story," Glenna snickered. "There's some fact mixed in with the fiction, but only if you know what to look for."

Mathias gaped at her. "You mean . . . the _Wizard_ wrote this book?"

"He did, laddie," Glenna affirmed. "Frank was the name he gave to me when we first met, and see, he used it here." She pointed at the flyleaf.

"But . . . there's something that doesn't make sense," Belle objected. "This book was published in 1900. And . . . you didn't go through the portal until 1937, Glenna. So how can that be? The dates don't match."

"No, they don't. However, I have a theory about that," Glenna said. "You see, Frank always told me he came from the era of 1920 or thereabouts. And he would have been trying to get back there with the pixie dust. But as I said, getting into Oz is a picnic compared to getting out of it. Even with the pixie dust, he might have had problems . . . and been blown off course and landed backwards in time . . . as this says, he began writing this in 1897, and only published it in 1900." She spread her hands. "It's the only thing that makes sense."

Rumple nodded. "You could be right, Mama."

"I like that notion," Belle said. "Whatever happened to the ruby slippers, Glenna?"

"Well, like I said, I put them away for safekeeping. But several years after Dorothy left, when I was still experimenting with searching for a way to find you, Rumple, a thief came to my tower, and he took the slippers, leaving in their place a golden acorn."

Mathias gasped. "Someone _stole_ the ruby slippers?"

"Aye, lad, but the acorn left in their place proved my salvation," Glenna said. "For it grew, after many years, into a mighty oak tree . . . it was wizardwood, you see, a magical wood that could be made into fantastical objects . . . and I had Kane chop it down when it was fully matured, and since he was also a carver, he made me a magical wardrobe."

"Is that how you came here?" Belle wanted to know.

"It is, but I had to wait in order to use it. For the night of the Witch's Moon, when the moon is blue, and the planets and stars are aligned, in a certain conjunction, which only occurs every three hundred years. During that time, the block over magical travel by witches of Oz is cancelled and they may leave for other dimensions. And it was then that I used the wardrobe and went to the Enchanted Forest searching for you, Rumple."

"But I wasn't there. I'd been cursed to come here," Rumple said.

"I know. My tracking spell revealed that . . . and I then traveled here to this world . . . my old world . . . and that's how I found you at last," Glenna finished.

"It's almost like . . . fate that you came here, now, when we're all free of the Dark Curse," Belle said.

"What curse is that?" asked Glenna.

"The curse the Evil Queen cast to steal away everyone's happiness but hers," Rumple explained. "I'll explain all about it, but first I need to tell you something, Mama. The ruby slippers . . . aren't lost any more. They're in my shop."

"Papa, you found them?" Mathias cried.

"In a way. I made a deal with Regina for them. She's the mayor here in Storybrooke, and also the Evil Queen. I traded her a potion recipe for them, because I thought I could use them to help me find my oldest son, Bae. But like you, I discovered I couldn't use them, Mama. Still I kept them, since I knew they were a valuable magical object."

Glenna laughed. "How ironic, Rumple! My missing slippers are right here, and so are you!"

"Would you like them back?" asked Rumple. "We can go to my shop and get them if you'd like."

"Well, if it wouldn't be too much trouble, dearie . . ."

"Not at all. Your magic works here, right?"

"Of course it does," Glenna said. "Why wouldn't it? I was born here, you know."

Rumple nodded, thinking that since she was native to this world, she didn't have the same limitations on her that he did, since he came from a land rich in magic and magical lines of energy, and found it difficult to interact with this world's magical energy field, which was so much weaker than the one he was used to back in Fairy Tale Land.

"Okay. Then let's go over to my shop and I'll return the slippers to you."

So that was what they did, and soon they had returned, with Glenna carrying the sparkling shoes in her hand.

Mathias had been reading a chapter of his dog story, Irish Red, to Belle in the den while they waited for the two magicians to return home. Fearchara was lying on his feet, and both the dog and the boy sprang up when the two appeared inside, swirled about by purple smoke.

Fearchara barked softly, then shook her head, as if trying to figure out how they had gotten there.

Mathias came up to them and said, "Grandma, may I see them? The ruby slippers?"

"Certainly, dearie," Glenna said, and she set the shoes down beside the boy.

Mathias knelt to examine the sparkling shoes.

Then something totally unexpected happened.

The slippers began to shimmer, glowing with magical light. Then they transformed right in front of a startled Mathias . . . into red basketball shoes with a sparkling gold OZ logo on the side.

The little boy fell backwards onto the floor, shocked and horrified.

Rumple's eyes nearly fell out of his head. "What in _hell_ just happened?"

"Papa . . . I didn't mean to!" his son babbled, inching backwards from the now metamorphisized shoes. "I don't know why it happened!" Terrified he would be blamed for the shoes sudden transformation, the boy started to gasp for breath, triggering his asthma.

"Mathias, calm down!" Belle cried, coming over to him. "Use your inhaler, son."

But Mathias was so distressed at the thought that he'd somehow "broken" the ruby slippers that his wheezing quickly progressed to an almost emergency stage.

Belle managed to get the inhaler into his mouth, but the medicine seemed to be having no effect, the child's airway was almost closed and she yelled, "Rumple! It's not working!"

"Belle, he needs the nebulizer," Rumple snapped. "It's easier to breathe in the medicine and the medicine is stronger." He bent and picked up his son. "Mathias, it's okay. Relax, son. Nobody's angry with you. Relax!" He carried the child over to the couch and sat down with him.

The poor boy was wheezing horribly, and tears were creeping from his eyes, as much from fear that he couldn't breathe as from fear that he would be punished for ruining the slippers.

Fearchara whined and began licking his hand, as Belle returned with his nebulizer and hooked it up and put it over the child's mouth and nose. Then she hovered anxiously, along with Glenna, as it whirred and dispensed the medicine down Mathias' throat.

"Easy, son. It's okay. Breathe, Mathias," urged his father, keeping his voice calm and even, biting back the panic that threatened to strangle his own breath. He held his son sideways on his lap so he could rub his back and continued with his soothing injunction to breathe and relax. "That's it. Take a breath. Good! Now another . . . there we go . . ."

Gradually, the mist penetrated the child's airway, releasing the tension and tightness and allowing him to breathe nearly normally again. As he relaxed against Rumple's chest, Mathias opened his mouth to apologize again.

"No. Don't talk. I want you to just breathe," Rumple ordered. "You need to let that medicine work, son. Relax and lean back against me." He moved his hand from the boy's back to his head, gently carding the boy's flyaway fine hair and having him lean against his chest.

After a few minutes, Mathias attempted to speak again, but Belle shook her head and said, "No, listen to your papa. You need to calm down, Mathias. I don't know why you got so scared, but you almost had me calling 911." She took a tissue and gently wiped his eyes with it. "Now you just breathe that medicine in and pet Fearchara and sit with your papa, okay?"

Mathias nodded, and did as she said, one hand stroking his dog's ears as she lay against Rumple's knees, her head in Mathias's lap, whining softly.

"It's okay, girl," Rumple said, petting her. "He'll be all right, though he scared the blazes out of all us."

"Belle, why don't we make some tea?" Glenna suggested. "I think we all could use some after that. I've never seen anyone with asthma before. Is it always like that?"

"No. Usually he uses his inhaler and it's fine. He has a special long term medicine in it, but he got so nervous or whatever that it didn't work quick enough," Belle explained, going into the kitchen to put on some tea.

"It was the slippers transforming, I think," Glenna mused. "Does he usually react like that around magic?"

"I . . . I don't think so. Rumple's performed magic sometimes near him and he's never been afraid like that," Belle said. "I don't know why he reacted like he did."

"Well, maybe we can ask him once he's calmed down," Glenna reasoned.

Belle made some cinnamon tea and Mathias' special herbal one with honey added to it. When it was done, she carried it over to him, with Glenna floating the rest in on a tray and setting it on the coffee table.

By then the nebulizer treatment had settled Mathias' asthma, and he was breathing normally again. Rumple insisted he keep the treatment going for the full fifteen minutes and then removed the nebulizer once it was finished.

Mathias continued stroking Fearchara, snuggled in Rumple's lap, and Belle gave him his tea, saying, "Good heavens, Mathias! You scared me half to death. Why were you so nervous?"

"'Cause . . . I _broke_ the ruby slippers, Mama!" her son replied, biting his lip.

"Dearie, why would you think that?" Rumple asked.

"Papa, I looked at 'em and they just . . . _changed_. I don't know what I did, but . . . it was _something_. I felt funny . . . and then they changed and . . . I'm sorry! I didn't mean to break them!" he started to cry and Fearchara promptly licked his face.

"Mathias, they're not broken and you're not in trouble," Rumple reassured him. "So stop crying, son."

"Hey . . . . Mathias, lad, listen to me," Glenna knelt and took his hands in hers. "I've been the custodian of those slippers for a long time, and let me tell you, they've never reacted like that to anyone except one person."

Mathias abruptly quit crying. "Who?"

"Dorothy Gale."

The child's eyes widened. "Y'mean . . . they changed for her too?"

"Well . . . not exactly like that," Glenna admitted. "But when I gave them to her, they were sized for a much larger foot . . . and adult foot. And as soon as she touched them, they shrank to fit her. Do you know why?"

Mathias shook his head, and gently pushed Fearchara's face away. The dog wagged her tail and placed her head back on his knee.

"Because she was meant to use the ruby slippers. They were created to allow a magic resistant person to travel the dimensions."

"But . . . that's what I am," Mathias stated. "Papa says so. His magic doesn't work on me . . . not usually, and that's why Peter's didn't either."

Glenna blinked. "Rumple, he's magic resistant?"

"Yes. And not just a little, Mama. He's got the full blown talent. It's why I couldn't use my magic to heal him from the beating Felix gave him," her son told the Witch of the North.

She looked thoughtful. "Hmm . . . you know that is a rare thing, don't you? Even rarer than those born with magic."

"I know. What are you implying?"

"That perhaps . . . only perhaps, mind, there might be a connection between him and Dorothy Gale," Glenna said.

"Like they could be related?" Belle supposed.

"Yes . . . anything's possible . . . if Dorothy had children after she returned from Oz," Glenna speculated.

"How could we find out? Is she still alive?" wondered Belle.

"Maybe. Though she would be quite old," Glenna said. "Is there a way to locate people nowadays without magic?"

"Yes. A database." Rumple confirmed.

"Like on the Web, Papa," Mathias agreed. "Emma could do it. She's got a program that finds people, she told me about it. She used to use it in Boston to find people who skipped bail."

"Right, and so do the Darlings. Michael said they have a database to find the families of the Lost Boys," Rumple said. "We can contact them tomorrow and see. Besides, I think it's time you met the rest of my family, Mama."

"The rest?" she quirked an eyebrow at him.

"My elder son, Baelfire, and his girlfriend, Emma Swan, who's also Storybrooke's sheriff, and their son, Henry, your great-grandson."

The witch's eyes widened. "Lord, Rumple! Is there anyone else I should know about?"

"Well, there's also Mayor Regina Mills, Henry's adopted mother, but I can explain more about her tomorrow." Rumple said. He looked at his son. "Mathias, maybe you should go to bed early—"

"Papa, wait." The little boy suddenly jumped off Rumple's lap. "Can I . . . try the shoes on?"

Rumple and Glenna exchanged glances.

"I dinna see the harm in it," Glenna said.

Mathias went over to where the red basketball shoes were still sitting and put first one foot into them and then the other.

The shoes sparkled and suddenly they shrank to fit him, just as they had Dorothy.

"Wow!" he grinned, staring at his feet.

Fearchara came and sniffed at them, whuffed, and then sat down beside him.

"It looks like the slippers . . . err . . . shoes . . . have found a new wearer," Glenna declared.

"What does that mean?" Belle wanted to know.

"It means, dearie, that the shoes are his to keep," Glenna replied.

"_Mine?_" Mathias repeated in amazement. "But Grandma . . . they're your magic slippers."

"Not anymore, lad. I was the custodian, and then your papa was, but those slippers have never belonged to us magicians. They were made specifically for people like you, people who are innately magic resistant, the opposite of a magician. Dorothy chose to send them back to Oz after she returned to Kansas. Now, however, they belong to you."

The little boy gazed in awe at the magical shoes. The famous Ruby Slippers of Oz . . . were now his. "Thanks!" was all he could think of to say, though it seemed woefully inadequate.

"You're welcome," his grandmother chuckled.

"All right, now let's go and get you ready for bed," Rumple said.

"Okay," Mathias agreed, then went and walked upstairs, still wearing the shoes, with his dog beside him.

Belle looked at Rumple. "Rumple . . . what if he is related to Dorothy? Could he still have family living?"

Rumple frowned. "Possibly . . . though I doubt it. He said he was living in an orphanage before Peter took him away. But we can see if Emma can locate a connection tomorrow."

Once they had put Mathias to bed with Fearchara lying beside him, Rumple went back downstairs to tell his mother about his first marriage to Milah, Baelfire, the Dark One's dagger, and the curse that had brought them all here. He did not attempt to sugar coat anything, explaining concisely and honestly what he had done, why he had done it, and what Regina had done. He told her about Regina's blood feud with Snow White and Charming, explained about Emma, and then Belle added her own side of things.

Glenna listened and then said, "Rumple, you did many things, as I have, that you're not proud of . . . but you canna change the past, only learn from it and try and do better in the future. You made some hard choices, and some terrible mistakes, but you were cursed, and half of your choices were influenced by dark magic, so I won't hold them against you. You redeemed yourself on Neverland when you broke that curse and brought those boys home and defeated Peter Pan. What matters is now . . . and I'll tell you that half the reason I came here was to find you . . . and the other half was to warn you that Elspira is most likely on her way here as well."

"What? Why?" Rumple cried.

"Because she wishes revenge against your Evil Queen . . . my Sight tells me as much, though not why. And she has always lusted to conquer new realms. Especially the one which birthed me, Dorothy, and the Wizard—her mortal enemies. Mark me well, on the night of the Witch's Moon, I wasn't the only one who slipped out of Oz. She did as well . . . and I'd wager all the gold you can spin, laddie, that she's coming here with an army . . . to conquer and destroy Storybrooke and all of you."

"Damn Regina!" Belle swore. "She's always causing trouble!"

"Aye, but now we reap the whirlwind, Belle," Glenna said grimly. "I think, though, we have some time yet. Time to prepare to defend this town and to find out what we need to know about Mathias. For if it's as I suspect, and he's the descendant of Dorothy Gale . . . we have to protect him at all costs. For Elspira would _love_ to get her hands on him, son of her mortal enemy . . . and the only magic resistant person in Storybrooke."

"I'll kill anybody that threatens him," Rumple said fiercely. "Nobody hurts my son!"

"She'll hurt him over my dead body!" Belle vowed.

"Aye!" Glenna nodded, a hard light coming into her green eyes. Then she yawned. "'Tis been a long day. Might you have a bed I can sleep in, Rumple?"

"Of course, Mama. There's a guest room here, right across from ours," her son said, and led the way to Belle's old room, with its pretty four poster bed with the midnight blue comforter and matching shams and drapes, and light blue carpet with its Chippendale furniture.

"Here. You can borrow one of my nighties," Belle said, bringing one of her soft cotton nightgowns into the room and giving it to Glenna. "Umm . . . it might be a little long . . ."

"Dinna worry, lass," Glenna chuckled. "I can adjust it. Thank you, and sleep well." She hugged Belle good night and then Rumple also.

Then, as she changed into her sleepwear, the Good Witch of the North gazed around at her new room and thought of how God worked in mysterious ways indeed, bringing her at last full circle back to where she had begun, to fight in another war, though this time she intended to win it, and not lose her family ever again.

**A/N: Hope you all liked the revelations and so forth in this chapter. I'm basing my Oz somewhat on the original movie and also my own twists. Note, Glenna would not have known about the movie as it came out after she fell through the portal and it was also only moderately popular in the US when it first appeared in theaters. It only really gained its fame when it went to Technicolor in the 1950's. The books as well sold extremely well in the US, but I'm not sure how well they'd have been known in other countries . . . especially given the fact that Glenna was sheltered in the Highlands as a young child and might not have read the books in Glasgow for fear of being thought even more odd than she was. Then too, there was a war on right before she "left" so she wouldn't have been concerned with reading kids books. **

**To answer the trivia questions last chapter-the other TV show, which is also one I loved, is Highlander, with the Clan MacLeod, and my fav actor, Robert Carlyle, whose dad was named Joe, and who is a native of Glasgow. **


	19. Courage in Tight Places

**19**

**Courage in Tight Places**

Belle and Glenna peered out the kitchen window, watching as Mathias played in the yard with Fearchara. The big Samoyed-mix was light on her feet despite her size, and ran circles about the boy, who moved over the grass light as thistledown. As he chased the dog, Mathias' red shoes caught glints of light, and the Oz logo sparkled as the sun hit it.

The child bent and picked up a blue ball and threw it, yelling, "Fearchara, fetch!"

Fearchara pricked up both her ears and bolted, moving like a sandy bullet across the yard and leaping into the air, snatching the ball, and landing easily on her feet. Blue eyes gleaming, she trotted over to the boy and laid the ball at his feet, then backed away and bowed to him before sitting up and barking.

Grinning, Mathias picked up the ball and then petted her on the head, crooning, "That's my good girl!"

"What a remarkable dog!" Glenna remarked. "Did he teach her that?"

"No," Belle said. "She came to us already trained, and knowing a fair bit of tricks. She's constantly surprising us with what she knows."

Glenna nodded. "She's a fine dog. She loves him very much. I can see it even with the little I've watched the two of them together."

"And he loves her. I think . . . I think she's the first thing he's ever loved completely, without being afraid she'll be taken away," Belle observed. "Even with Rumple and me, he's more cautious."

"Can you blame him?"

"No. I don't. And he's made remarkable strides in the short time he's been with us. But I think some of that has to do with Fearchara. Rumple thinks whoever owned her before us trained her to be a therapy dog or something like it, since she automatically picks up things that drop, like Mathias' inhaler fell one time and she went and got it and gave it to him. She also brings us things, like Rumple's paper and my slippers. She also just seems to know when Mathias needs her and is there by him."

"And I'd wager my son's right. She's a smart one, and no mistaking it. My dad always said, you can tell just by looking in their eyes, animal or human, whether or not they use their brain for sommat."

"Fearchara does," Belle nodded.

"Aye. And so do you. The laddie too. And Rumple."

"You didn't raise any stupid sons, Glenna," Belle said, her eyes twinkling.

"Thank God!" Glenna smirked. "Malcolm was fiendish clever sometimes, but only as far as it got him to the next game at the table. Otherwise he was dumber than dirt, and that's the truth. Idiot never planned for anything except maybe the next night's ale and some willing floozy in his arms. I'm sorry my son had to grow up with him for a parent, but I can't say I'm sorry Malcolm died the way he did. He was a bad sort and they always come to a bad end, as my ma used to say."

"I'm glad I never knew him," Belle said hotly. "I'd have probably kicked his ass out into the street by now."

Glenna chuckled wickedly. "Aye, lass, and I'd have been cheerin' you on while you were doing it." She clapped when Fearchara turned around in a circle and carried a stick in her mouth. "Will you look at that? She's like a circus performer!"

Belle laughed. "Like I said, she's full of surprises. Kind of like Mathias. He's such a sweet little boy . . . and that despite all he's gone through. Did Rumple tell you . . . about Neverland . . .?"

"Yes. That's a strong boy you've got there, Belle. To endure that . . . and still be as sweet as he is . . . that lad's got heart. Like another kid I knew long ago. Well, whatever doesn't kill you makes you stronger, you know?"

"I know, Glenna. Rumple and I . . . we both know that all too well," Belle said.

Then the two women went silent, just looking at the child and the dog playing, and marveling at the resilience displayed by Pan's former slave, who was slowly coming into his own, and proving that the one who used to be called Mouse had the heart of a lion.

**Page~*~*~*~*~Break**

Emma looked up as someone entered the police station. "Gold," she said, her voice tinged with surprise. "Something happen down at your shop?"

"No, everything's fine, Emma. How are things with you and Henry? And Bae?"

"We're good. Bae's taking some courses online, trying to get a degree," Emma said.

Rumple's eyebrows went up. "He is? What in?"

"Buisness admin, I think. Or something along those lines," Emma. "In the meantime he works with me as my deputy."

"Good. That's nice," Rumple nodded approvingly. "I was wondering if you're free for dinner tonight?"

Emma consulted her electronic calendar on her phone. "Uh, yeah, sure. What time?"

"Six thirty okay?"

"Fine. Should I bring anything?"

"Just yourselves," Rumple said, an amused light in his eyes.

"We'll be there . . . with bells on," Emma smirked.

"Cute quip, Swan."

Emma snickered. "Sorry, couldn't resist."

Gold shook his head. "Well, I'd better get back over to my shop. The natives are getting restless. See you tonight."

**Page~*~*~*~*~Break**

Emma, Bae, and Henry rang the doorbell to Gold's Victorian at precisely five minutes to six that evening.

"I'll get it!" they heard Mathias call, and soon the door was thrown open and Mathias stood there, in his jeans and USA soccer jersey, one hand holding Fearchara's collar. "Hi! You're finally here."

"Hey, kid," Emma said. "How's it going? Hey, pup." She ruffled Fearchara's ears.

"We're finally here?" Bae smirked. "You make it sound like we had to take a plane to get here. We're five minutes away."

Mathias shrugged. "Well, it seemed like forever, Bae. C'mon in. Mama made chicken cordon bleu and macaroni and cheese."

"All right!" Henry cried. "Belle's macaroni and cheese is the best. It's even better than Granny's."

"I know," Mathias said, stepping back so they could come in.

"Hey, cool shoes!" Henry exclaimed, staring at the red basketball shoes on Mathias' feet. "They new?"

"Uh, yeah. Sort of," the other boy said. He made smooching noises at Fearchara. "C'mon, Fearchara. You can lick everybody hello later."

The dog turned and trotted inside, her tail waving.

Mathias led the way into the den where Rumple was waiting with Belle and Glenna. "Here they are, Papa."

Bae looked at Glenna, his brow wrinkling. "Papa, who's this?"

"Bae, I'd like you to meet Glenna MacLeod-Carlyle, who's sometimes known as Glinda. This is my mother and your grandmother," Rumple gestured to her.

"This is your _mom_?" Emma cried, getting the same look on her face that she had when she first discovered they were all from Fairy Tale Land.

"Glinda . . . like the Good Witch of the North?" Henry asked. "From _The Wizard of Oz?"_

"Yup," Mathias replied to him.

Bae's jaw worked, then he blurted, "Jesus, Papa! I thought you said your parents were dead!"

"He thought I was, dearie," Glenna interjected. She held out a hand. "So you're Baelfire. Pleased to meet you."

Bae shook her hand, then said, "Same here . . . uh . . . should I call you Grandma?"

"Why not, laddie? 'Tis what I am," she chuckled.

"And you're my great-grandma," Henry murmured.

She smiled at him. "And what's your name?"

"I'm Henry." He shook her hand too. "Are you really a witch?"

"Henry!" Emma facepalmed herself.

"I am," Glenna admitted. She turned to Emma. "And you must be Henry's mama."

"Yeah, that's me. Emma Swan," Emma said, shaking her hand as well.

"Why don't we all go into the dining room and sit down?" Belle suggested. "We can talk over dinner."

"Sounds good to me," Henry agreed. "Cause I'm starving!"

"Me too!" agreed Mathias.

"Me three," Bae added, and they all laughed.

**Page~*~*~*~*~Break**

Once Glenna had told her story again to the rest of the family, and they had all eaten of the savory chicken cordon bleu, delicious macaroni and cheese, and green beans with almonds, Mathias showed Henry his red basketball shoes, aka the ruby slippers.

Henry knelt to examine them, saying, "Those are really neat! Is that why they have the Oz logo on them?"

Mathias nodded. "Uh huh. They transformed like that last night when Papa brought them home and I went to see them. I got kind of scared . . . I thought I broke them . . . and I got a bad asthma attack. But Grandma said the slippers were supposed to do that, because I was meant to use them. She even thinks . . . I might be related to the real Dorothy Gale."

"Really? That'd be pretty neat," Henry said. Then he giggled as Fearchara went and licked his face. "Aww, Fearchara!"

Fearchara grinned at him.

"Hey, have you tried to use them yet?" was his next question.

"Nope. Because there's no place like home," Mathias said, giving Henry a knowing smile. "You wanna watch a DVD? I've got one about a sled dog race called Iron Will. It's based on a true story."

"Sure. But let's eat some dessert first," Henry suggested.

"Okay. Grandma made it. It's peanut butter brownie trifle."

"It sounds great!" Henry said, and followed his uncle into the kitchen to get the bowl out of the fridge.

In a large deep glass bowl was the dessert, layers of vanilla pudding mixed with peanut butter, chopped up brownies, then peanut butter cups, and whipped cream all over the top.

The boys carried it into the dining room and as Glenna served it, she said, "I thought this recipe sounded incredible while I was looking through Belle's cooking magazines. I hope it's as good as it looks."

Everyone agreed it was better, and had seconds, unable to resist doing so, it was so wonderful.

"I think this is my new favorite dessert, Mama," Rumple declared.

"Mine too!" seconded Mathias.

"And mine . . . with cinnamon," Henry said, and everyone cracked up.

**Page~*~*~*~*~Break**

Emma agreed to speak with the Darling brothers tomorrow and see if they had found out anything with their database, which they'd set up to track down any of the Lost Boys' families, and she also said she'd do a search with her own missing persons database.

"But I'll need your fingerprints, Mathias," Emma told him. "That's how the police identify kids nowadays."

"How do you get them?" the little boy wanted to know.

"It's easy. You put your finger into an ink pad and press it down on a piece of paper. Then I take it and use my scanner to scan it into the database and let it search for a match. Then we'll see what happens."

"Okay. Can we do that tomorrow?"

"I'll bring you down tomorrow afternoon, son," Gold said.

"After I work at Grandpa Maury's," Mathias reminded him.

"Yes."

"That's good. Henry, let's watch the movie," he urged his older nephew, and Henry and he went upstairs to watch it on Mathias' TV sprawled in his beanbag chairs with cans of Fuze iced tea lemonade.

**Page~*~*~*~*~Break**

_Gold's pawnshop:_

The phone rang just as Rumple and Mathias were leaving to go to Game of Thorns the next morning. "Wait here for me," his papa said, then went to answer it.

Ten minutes later, Mathias was still waiting, and he went back to see what was keeping his father. "Papa, we really should leave now. I don't want to be late."

Gold held up a hand, then said into the phone, "Excuse me a minute, I need to put you on hold," and clicked the hold button. "Mathias, I have to take this call, the shipping arrangements for a very expensive antique I ordered got totally messed up and it's taking me awhile to straighten them out. Can you walk to Maurice's shop by yourself, or do you want me to call your mama to go with you?"

Mathias shook his head. "No, Papa. I'm okay, I won't get lost, Fearchara and I know the way there."

"All right. But you call me as soon as you get there on my cell. Leave a message."

"I will," his son assured him, then he gave him a hug and half-ran out the door with Fearchara on his heels, yelling, "Have a good day! See ya!"

Gold sighed. This day was turning out to be a real winner, he thought sourly and got back on the phone with the antiques dealer.

**Page~*~*~*~*~Break**

Mathias walked down the street, whistling happily, with his dog trotting along next to him. He occasionally glanced at his shoes, thinking how comfortable they felt and wondering what it would mean if he really were connected to Dorothy Gale. It would be cool, he decided, to find out more about his past, but other than that, it really wouldn't change things too much, because they were dead, other than answering a few questions he'd had about what had happened to make him an orphan and if he'd inherited his magic resistance from Dorothy. Otherwise he was perfectly content being Belle and Rumple's son. He also wondered what Grandpa Maury would think about Glenna.

_He'll probably be as shocked as Emma was last night, but then he'll get used to it. Maybe he'll want to come over for dinner and meet her._ That would be nice, he mused, to have both grandparents over at the same time. He reached out to stroke Fearchara, saying softly to his dog, "Well, now I have a whole family again, girl."

"Yeah, you're like the freakin' Brady Bunch . . . Mouse!" sneered a familiar voice.

A tall boy with an earring in his lip and punk black hair wearing ripped jeans, a studded collar over a skull and bones T-shirt and a black jean jacket with Army boots stepped into Mathias' path.

Behind him were two other boys, dressed similarly, one with bleached hair, the other dyed crimson at the tips.

Mathias swallowed hard. He knew these three, they had been Lost Boys too, but on Neverland they had been part of Felix's crowd and were nasty cruel bullies who had tormented him along with their leader. He put a hand on Fearchara's collar.

The dog whuffed at the strange boys, sensing they were up to no good, and pushed herself in front of her master, her ears back, eyeing them coldly.

"What do you want, Thrasher?" Mathias asked, trying to stem the fear that suddenly crawled into the back of his throat. He nervously fingered his inhaler in his pocket, and prayed he wouldn't need it.

"What do I _want_? You talkin' to _me_?" Thrasher jerked a thumb back at his chest. "Looks like you done forgot the respect you owe me, boy!"

"Yeah, Thrash!" hooted the blonde boy, called Ripper, because he liked to rip apart things . . . like plants and helpless animals. "The little pee-on thinks he's hot shit these days!"

"But he ain't!" added the other boy, named Cutlass. "Just 'cause your daddy's some bigshot businessman now don't mean jack to us, right, Thrash?"

"Yeah. You still the same wimpy piece of shit we always stomped on," sneered Thrasher. "Now give us whatever ya got on ya, kid."

Mathias swallowed hard. "Like what?"

"Like money, ya stupid fuckwad!" Thrasher brayed. "God, but you're dumb!"

"I am not. I'll bet I can read better than you, if you even can," Mathias returned, wondering if he ought to call for help. He was only a few doors down from Maurice's shop. But no one was around right now.

"Like I give a damn about books!" Thrasher snorted. "Cough it up, Mouse! Before I take yore dictionary and shove it up yore ass!"

Mathias grave ground slightly. "I told you, I don't have anything, Thrasher. Now get outta my way, I gotta go to work. My grandpa's expecting me. And my name's not Mouse anymore, it's _Mathias._"

"I don't care if you call yourself Jesus Marimba, kid. You ain't leavin' without givin' me something," Thrasher declared, his lips curling in a smile that promised hurting. "Or else I can always take payment outta yore hide, like the old days."

His bully boys hooted and cheered.

"We're not on Neverland anymore, and I'm not . . . I'm not your slave!" Mathias said, wishing he sounded more certain.

"Sure you are, boy! You just done forgot that fact, what with yore new "family"!" Thrasher chuckled. "Which you only got cause they feels sorry for you!"

Mathias shook his head, trying to think of a way to get past them. But they were blocking the sidewalk. "Wrong. They like me," he refuted. "But nobody wants you three!"

"Ooh, you really hurt my feelings!" sneered Ripper.

"Yeah, we don't need no damn family!" added Cutlass.

"Enough, dickwads!" Thrasher snarled. "You don't got money, fancypants, you give us something else." He looked at the child again, noting his clothes and then his eyes dropped to the red shoes. "Like those there! Take 'em off!"

"No! You ain't takin' my shoes!" Mathias cried. "You can go to hell!"

"More like that's where you're goin! 'Cause I'm gonna send ya there! In a bodybag!" Thrasher spat. "On yore knees, you piece of shit." Then he lunged at the smaller boy, swinging a fist at Mathias' face.

Two things happened rapidly.

The first was that Thrasher's fist never connected with its target.

Because there came a sharp flare of light and his fist was repelled. "Ahh! My hand!" squealed the Lost Boy, shaking it. It felt as if he'd stuck his finger into an electrical current. He drew back, shaking his hand, turning around to show his companions.

The second thing was Fearchara suddenly sprang at the boy, snarling like a rabid wolf. Her bulk hit the boy squarely in the knees and knocked the bully sprawling onto the pavement. And her teeth met in a sharp bite of reproof on the boy's backside, just as if he were a misbehaving pup she needed to discipline.

"OWW!" screeched Thrasher, his voice shrill like a girl's. "My ass! Fuck! Get it off me! It's eating me! Help!"

But his friends were backing away, as Fearchara stood atop the boy, her teeth bared, growling like some wild beast, her blue eyes blazing.

"That ain't no dog, that's a fuckin' wild beast!" babbled Cutlass. "C'mon, Ripper! Let's get outta here, for it tears out our throats!"

"What about Thrash?" whimpered Ripper, backing away.

"Shit, he's done for! Leave em! Every man for himself, aye?" Cutlass yelped, then turned and bolted down the sidewalk.

"Ripper! Get it off me-e-e!" wailed Thrasher, squirming and petrified.

Fearchara barked loudly, then nipped the boy beneath her again, warning him to be still.

"Oww! Oh, fuck! I'm being eaten alive!"

Ripper went paler than his bleached hair and hissed, "Screw it! I'm outta here!" and ran.

Mathias stared at his tormentor on the ground and felt a sudden rush of pride. He walked around to where the older boy's head was and planted his foot right next to Thrash's nose. "So . . . you wanna move your ass now, _boy_?"

Thrasher whimpered. "Please . . . please call it off! I'll never . . . I'll leave ya alone . . ."

"Uh huh. You better. Or else I'll tell Fearchara here to eat you . . . a little at a time . . . in pieces!" Mathias growled.

Thrasher shook his head. "No . . . no . . .please Mouse . . .I m-mean Mathias . . . what . . . what kind of fuckin' name's that?"

Mathias smirked. "It means . . . Lucifer, like in . . . the devil."

Thrasher gulped, then whimpered as Fearchara snarled at him. "Call it off . . . please . . . and what does its name mean?"

"_Her_ name's Fearchara . . . and it means Destruction . . . as in, she's gonna destroy your ass if you don't get it outta here pronto!" Mathias warned. He snapped his fingers. "Fearchara, come! Let him go!"

Fearchara whuffed, then reluctantly stepped off the prone boy, coming to stand protectively in front of Mathias.

Thrasher sprang to his feet, whimpering and crying. "I'm leavin', man! I'm leavin'!"

"Get, you scumbag piece of shit!" Mathias spat. "And don't forget, you dumb fuck, to remember _my_ name. It's Mathias Gold. And if you mess with me again . . . I'll keel you!" he cried, making his voice like Ahmad the Terrorist's from Jeff Dunham's show, which he'd watched with Henry last week at his house when Regina was at a meeting.

Thrasher squealed like a stuck pig and fled, holding his bottom, not getting the reference.

Mathias pumped a fist into the air, and said, "Guess we showed that stupid fuck who's the boss now, eh, Fearchara?" He knelt and hugged the dog, who covered his face with kisses. "You were awesome! And I'm so lucky Papa can't hear my mouth right now, I'd be tasting soap the rest of the day." Then he shook his head. "But it'd be worth it, just to see those suckers run." He peered down at his shoes. "Try and take _my_ Oz shoes will ya? Like hell!" He ruffled Fearchara's ears again. "You know, something happened before you bit Thrash, girl, only I don't know what it was. I gotta ask Papa later on today. C'mon, before we're late!"

He sprinted down the sidewalk, Fearchara following, feeling for the first time ever, not the least bit cautious or afraid of anything.

When he entered Game of Thorns, Moe looked up and said, "Hey, where's the fire?"

"Sorry, Grandpa Maury. Thought I was late," Mathias panted.

"Nope, you're good, kid. Now sit down and take a breather. I don't want your mama killing me if you get an asthma attack," Moe cautioned, dragging a folding chair out from behind his counter and setting it down so Mathias could sit on it.

The little boy sat down, taking a puff on his inhaler just in case, and then drinking the bottle of water the florist held out. "M'okay, Grandpa. Let me call Papa and let him know I'm here." He grabbed the cordless phone and dialed Gold's cell, leaving a message to tell him he was at Game of Thorns.

"Here, Fearchara," Moe whistled to the dog, and set a bowl of water down for her and a rawhide chew. "So, how you been keeping, son?"

"I'm good. See my new shoes?" Mathias held out his foot so Moe could examine them.

"Those are nice, son! What are they, Nikes?"

"Nope. They're from Oz. And so's my grandma."

Moe did a doubletake. "Mathias, what are you talking about?"

"Two days ago this lady came into Papa's shop . . . only she wasn't just a customer, she was Papa's mother . . . and also Glinda the Good Witch from Oz . . ." Mathias began, telling Moe all about his new relative and the ruby slippers and everything.

Moe just gaped at him. "Kid, if I didn't know better . . . aww, hell, you can't even make this stuff up, it's so crazy! I feel like I'm trapped in one of those reality shows—Lost Relatives Returned or something! I mean, first I'm related to Rumplestiltskin who spins straw into gold and all and now I'm following the yellow brick road to Oz and here comes Glinda!"

"Actually, her name's Glenna, Grandpa," Mathias corrected. "And why don't you come for supper tonight and meet her?"

"Okay. Maybe I'll bring her an African violet," Moe agreed. Then he shook his head. "This family's so convoluted I don't think ancestry. Com could figure us out."

"And you know something else? I might be related to Dorothy!" Mathias chirped.

"Good Lord! You have any other surprises, kid? Because if so, tell me now. So I can start thinking about them. Because next thing you know, somebody's going to tell me we're related to freaking Merlin, and then I'm shooting myself!" Moe groaned.

Mathias laughed. "That's all, Grandpa."

"Good. Now let's go repot some orchids. Got a shipment in yesterday and we need to put them out," Moe said.

Mathias eagerly scrambled off his chair and followed the older man into the back room, leaving Fearchara to gnaw her rawhide chew beside the counter.

**Page~*~*~*~*~Break**

It was on their way back home, after stopping by the police station so Emma could get Mathias' fingerprints for her database, that Mathias asked Rumple, "Papa, something happened today and I need to ask you about it."

"Go on," Rumple encouraged.

"Well, when I was going over to Game of Thorns today I met Thrasher, Ripper, and Cutlass—"

"Hold it. Who are they? They sound like gang members," Rumple frowned.

"Uh, they're Lost Boys. They used to hang around with Felix." Mathia said quickly. "Anyway—"

Rumple peered hard at his son as they drove down their street, before he said, "Wait a minute. Did they hurt you?"

"No, Papa. 'Cause—"

"It's okay, you can tell me if they did," Rumple interrupted, afraid Mathias was hiding the fact because he didn't want to be thought of as a baby or a coward. "Because if they did, I'm turning them into targets and using them for archery practice!"

"Papa, I'm okay!" Mathias cried exasperatedly. "Cause Fearchara kicked their asses and so did something else."

"Language, young man."

"Sorry. But here's what happened . . ." Mathias related everything to his father, save for all the swearing. "And I was wondering . . . what could've caused that shock to Thrash's hand, Papa? I couldn't have done it, right?"

"No, lad. You're the opposite of a magician. Except . . . I seem to recall something about the ruby slippers . . . no one could take them off of Dorothy's feet. The Wicked Witch tried and they shocked her too. So perhaps the shoes have a protection spell built into them. One that reacts if someone tries to harm the wearer and take the shoes."

"Cool! Thrash was sure surprised," Mathias said.

"I think he was more surprised you stood up for yourself," Rumple said.

"Aww, I just . . . it was Fearchara mostly," the little boy said.

"And you too. I'm proud of you, Mathias. You showed those bullies that you're not their doormat anymore. And that's what they'll remember."

His son grinned up at him. "Yeah, I guess you're right. I'm not their slave anymore, Papa. And next time they try and mess with me I'll tell them to shove it up—"

"Mathias!"

"Uh . . . you know," his son finished.

"That's my boy," Rumple said, and hugged his son briefly before getting out of the car. "Come on, we'd better start supper before your grandfather gets here."

Mathias bounded out of the car along with Fearchara, his red shoes squeaking a bit on the pavement as he ran up the stairs and into the house, yelling, "Grandma, we're home!"

**A/N: If you would like the peanut butter brownie trifle recipe, let me know!**


	20. Connections

**20**

**Connections**

Belle and Glenna were both in the kitchen, where Glenna was assisting Belle with supper again. The Good Witch was basting a ham with some honey pineapple glaze, which was both spicy and sweet due to some added red pepper flakes. She slid the ham back into the oven and turned to Belle and said, "Looks like the boys have arrived home, Belle."

Fearchara pranced into the kitchen, sniffing the air delightedly, as it was redolent with ham and honey. Belle went and stroked her head, saying, "How are you, girl? Did you have a good day today with Father and Mathias?"

"Mama, we had the best day!" Mathias said excitedly, coming into the kitchen and hugging his mother and grandma. "And guess what? Grandpa Maury's coming for dinner tonight!"

"He is? Then it's a good thing Glenna and I made this ham," Belle said, sounding startled.

"Well, that's kinda why he's coming," Mathias told her. "To meet Grandma."

"They're talking about Maurice French, Belle's papa," Rumple told his mother, coming up and hugging her hello. "He's a florist here in Storybrooke, though in our old realm he was a king."

"I'd be happy to meet him, Rumple," Glenna said, amused. "I just hope he likes ham and roasted potatoes and creamed corn."

"And crescent rolls," Belle reminded her. "We can't forget those."

"It smells incredible, dearie," Rumple said, hugging Belle and kissing her gently. "Now, I'm going to get changed into something a little less formal. Mathias, why don't you get washed up too?"

"Okay, but first I wanna tell Mama and Grandma about what happened on the way to Grandpa Maury's," Mathias began.

Belle frowned as Rumple seemed rather alarmed. "What happened, Mathias?"

"Something awesome!" her son declared. Then he told her the whole story of himself, Fearchara, and the three Lost Boys. "And then my shoes shocked Thrasher, and Fearchara bit him, and I told him right off and watched him run down the street, bawling like a big fat _baby_!"

Belle remained with her mouth open. "Mathias . . . they _threatened_ to hurt you?"

"Well, yeah, but Mama, they've always done that. They did worse back when we were on Neverland," Mathias stated matter-of-factly.

"That doesn't make it right, son!" Belle flared, her blue eyes suddenly spitting sparks. "Those . . . those . . . wretched hooligans! They're nothing but a pack of bullies, picking on a child half their size and . . . and how old are they anyhow? Ten? Eleven?"

"Uh . . . 'bout ten or so, I guess," Mathias shrugged.

"Disgusting! I've a good mind to go over there and give them a lesson they'll never forget!" Belle snapped, her eyes flashing. "Glenna, how long till the ham and potatoes get done?"

"About forty-five minutes, dearie," Glenna answered.

"Good! Then that leaves me time to find those three children and teach them that nobody threatens my son! Those three might not have parents to answer to, but by God, they'll answer to me!"

Rumple and Mathias just stood there, gaping at the suddenly transformed Belle, who had become an avenging angel.

Belle spun about and grabbed her red duster from the closet and pulled it on.

"Belle? Dearie, where are you going? Your father's going to be here any minute," Rumple said in astonishment.

"Good, Rumple. Then you can tell him where I'm going!" she stated.

"Where _are _you going, Mama?" asked Mathias.

"To the convent!" Belle answered.

"And I'm goin' with you!" Glenna stated. "'Tis time those imps were taught a stern lesson!" She gestured and a napkin was transformed into a silvery gray coat.

As the two women stormed out the front door, Moe was coming up the walk, holding a pretty African violet in a pink glass pot in his hand. He goggled at the sight of Belle and Glenna, who wore looks he'd only seen on the Furies of myth.

"Belle?" he called, but his daughter swept right past him, followed by a red-haired woman he thought was probably Rumple's mother, though she almost didn't look old enough to have a son that age. Moe reminded himself she was a witch, and magic folk never did look their age. He came up the stairs and entered the house, totally puzzled.

"What's going on, Rumple?"

"Belle and my mama are going on the warpath, Moe. They heard about those boys trying to bully Mathias and now they're . . ."

"They're ready to kick ass and take names, Grandpa Maury!" Mathias cried.

"Mathias Gold! Mind that mouth! Otherwise I have a bar of Irish Spring waiting for you," Rumple scolded.

"Sorry, Papa. It's just . . . so wicked that they're like going to do that," the little boy said.

"That's not the term I'd have used," Moe said uncertainly.

"Maybe we'd better follow them, just in case," Rumple said.

Together, the three and Fearchara followed the two women, and as they walked past the police station on their way to the convent, they stopped in and Rumple filed a report with Bae, citing harassment and assault by threat against the three bullies.

"Those rotten little—" Bae began angrily. Then he sputtered to a halt when he got a Look from Rumple. " . . . err, you know what I mean. Hells, Papa, I'm not ten anymore!" He shook his head. "I'll tell Emma, she went to get a cup of coffee and a cinnamon cruller at Granny's. I wish I could go and watch, but I have to mind the station."

"We'll let you know how it turns out," Rumple said, then he shepherded Mathias out of the station and continued walking towards the convent, with Moe and Fearchara following.

**Page~*~*~*~*~Break**

When they arrived at the convent, a venerable old stone building, Belle and Glenna found the three boys sweeping the front porch steps and the sidewalk. They recognized them from Mathias' descriptions, and from the fact that one of them had a hand to his backside and was moaning about how sore he was.

"That fuckin' hellhound left teethmarks in my ass!" Thrasher groaned. "And those blasted nuns wouldn't even use magic to heal 'em. They said it wasn't needful, and that mo'fo in the infirmary made me bend over while she put some shit from some brown bottle on the cuts and it stung like bloody hell! I swear, next time I see that kid I'm fuckin' him up good!"

Glenna gestured and his mouth was filled with soap suds. "You've got a filthy mouth on you, laddie! Now clean it up!"

"A filthy mouth usually goes with a filthy mind!" Belle snarled. "What do you mean, threatening my son, you wretched little miscreants?"

"Huh? What's a miss-kree-ant?" asked Thrasher, scratching his head.

"I dunno."

"Got me."

"Miscreant-a hoodlum, a bully, a wicked nasty child who needs a good spanking!" Belle elaborated, her eyes blazing.

"Want me to conjure a willow switch, Belle?" Glenna asked, her own eyes hard.

"Who the hell are you two?" muttered Cutlass.

"I'm Mathias' mom," Belle replied.

"And I'm his grandma," Glenna snapped.

"Aww . . .crap!" whimpered Thrasher, still spitting soap.

"That's right, laddie, and you're deep in it now!" Glenna said, crossing her arms over her chest.

"You can't do jack to us, you old bitch!" yelled Cutlass.

At that Rumple started forward, his hand raised. But Moe grabbed his shoulder and whispered, "Hold it, Rumple! Let them handle it."

Rumple scowled and hissed, "For now I will. But that little brat shoots his mouth off again and he'll be croaking his ABC's on a lilypad!"

"Watch that mouth, boy, before you're eating soap too," Belle growled. "I'm sick to death of you thinking that just because you have no parents to answer to that means you can do whatever you want in this town and get away with it. Were we back in our old realm, children, you would be thrashed within an inch of your lives . . . just the way you did to my son! However, it's a bit different here, but that doesn't mean you're allowed to play fast and loose with the rules."

"Rules don't apply to us, lady!" jeered Ripper.

"Yeah, you can take your rules and shove 'em!" Cutlass stated, sniggering.

"Uh huh. We're the Nasty Boys, and we do what we want, when we want, and to whoever we want!" brayed Thrasher.

"That's what you think," snorted Emma, pulling up in her Bug. "You're not in Neverland anymore, boys. And Peter doesn't reign here. But law and order does . . . and _I'm_ the law here. I've just received a complaint against you three, and not only that, but you threatened my fiancee's little brother."

"What? You tellin' me that Mouse . . err . . . Mathias . . . is related to you _and_ these . . . bi—women here _and_ that rich Gold that carries a cane?" sputtered Thrasher.

"Holy crap, Thrash!" gasped Cutlass.

"That's what I'm telling you, kid," Emma scowled. "I'm also telling you that such a complaint carries with it a two week stint of community service."

"What's that?"

Emma shook her head. "Kid, you'd better wise up. That means you get to do something that helps the community . . . like bust your butt gutting fish down at the cannery, or scrubbing down the fishing boats, or—"

"How about some time breaking rocks in the mines with the dwarves?" suggested Belle with a sweetly wicked smile. "They can always use an extra hand and a strong back. And work will keep these three troublemakers so busy they won't have time to beat up little boys and try and steal their shoes!"

"Those shoes were cursed!" yelped Thrasher. "They freakin' fried me!"

"Then maybe that ought to be a lesson to you, laddie!" Glenna snapped. "Keep your sticky fingers to yourself and don't touch what's not yours!"

"How about we have them do all three tasks?" Emma suggested. "Will that satisfy you, Belle?"

"Yes. And hopefully they'll learn something from it."

"Okay. Then I'll expect you down at the station tomorrow morning at nine o'clock sharp, boys!" Emma barked. "And if you don't show or you're late . . . you'll do twice the time, am I clear?"

"Yes, sheriff Swan!" the three whimpered.

Emma turned to leave, and winked at Gold, Moe, and Mathias as she did so. She waved at Belle and Glenna as she climbed back in her Bug and drove off.

"That's all well and good, but I think they need a . . . more pointed reminder too," Glenna declared, and she gestured at the three boys.

They immediately began scratching themselves as big red marks exploded all over their faces, arms, and legs.

"Ahh! What's this?" yelped Cutlass.

"It's a rash!" wailed Ripper. "Oh, I'm itchin' like a dog with fleas!"

"It's poison ivy!" Thrasher bawled, scratching frantically.

"Whadda we do, Thrash?" whined Cutlass.

"How should I know? Do I look like a damn doctor?"

"I think I'm gonna die!" sniffled Ripper.

Thrash smacked him on the back of the head. "You dumb shit! You are not! Poison ivy ain't like that!"

The three boys ran around in circles, yammering and bleating.

Mathias snickered softly and said to the two men, "Serves them right. Maybe that will teach 'em, if anything can."

Belle turned and quietly high-fived Glenna.

Rumple looked at Moe and said, "It's like watching a cuddly kitten suddenly turn into a tigress!"

Moe just nodded. "You can say that again. But you know, there's no deadlier thing then a mother defending her young."

The three men and Fearchara followed the women back home, and when they arrived back at the house, they found the ham and potatoes were now done and dinner was ready to be served.

As Belle got the dishes out of the oven and Mathias set the table along with Rumple, Moe went and picked up the African violet he'd brought and carried it over to where Glenna was pouring the iced tea into glasses and said, "We haven't been properly introduced, though I love what you did to those bullies that tried to hurt our grandson. Moe French. Pleased to meet you."

Glenna turned to see a broadshouldered man with dark hair standing beside her with his hand extended. She took it and said, "I'm Glenna MacLeod-Carlyle, and the pleasure is all mine." She gave him a sweet smile.

Moe was astonished when he felt his heart speed up. "Thanks and I hope you like violets. Err . . . welcome to Storybrooke." He handed her the African violet.

"For me? How lovely!" Glenna exclaimed, holding the plant. "I love them! They're one of my favorite plants, along with hyacinths, orchids, and my native Highland heather. Though that I haven't seen in over thirty years, dearie, since it's not native to Oz," she chuckled, then went to put the violet on the bay window.

Maurice shyly watched her do so, thinking that she had the most beautiful voice, musical and lilting, and she moved like a willow in the wind, all grace and beauty. He found himself starting to blush and thinking he hadn't had such thoughts about a woman since his wife had died over thirty years ago.

Glenna turned and thought what a thoughtful man Belle's father was, to bring her flowers. Malcolm had never found such courtly gestures to be important, even when he was actually courting her, she thought sadly. The only thing she recalled from before they were married was that one time he'd taken her to the market and bought a pastry for her. And for their morning gift he'd brought her a bottle of red honey wine. But flowers, never!

She noticed the florist standing there al little awkwardly, and said, "Why don't we bring these glasses of iced tea to the table, Moe? I really like ices tea, though before I went to Oz, the only tea I was used to drinking was hot with a cup and a saucer."

Moe took the glasses and began to set them at each place, saying, "I like mine both ways, though in the summer I enjoy a sprig of mint along with lemon in my iced tea. Have you ever had rose petal tea, Glenna? My late wife Angelique loved it, along with some shaved chocolate and vanilla in it. I've actually found a tea company here that can almost reproduce it."

Glenna set some more glasses down. "How fascinating! I'd love to try it. My late husband Malcolm never could brew a decent pot of tea, he never had the patience to wait for it to steep and it tasted like colored water." She made a face. "And his coffee he boiled too long and it was like mud. A cook he definitely was not, so it was a good thing I could cook, otherwise Rumple and I would have starved."

Moe raised an eyebrow. "Forgive me for saying so, but he sounds like a real winner."

"You needn't ask forgiveness for that, dearie. That man was the worst rascal and bounder in the Enchanted Forest and probably all the United States as well, and I'd be the first one to say so!" Glenna said spiritedly.

"Anybody that can sell their own wife ought to be shot," Belle put in.

"Or hung, drawn, and quartered," snorted Rumple.

"What? He . . . he sold you, Glenna? Like . . ." Moe was horrified. "But what kind of . . . man dies that to his _wife_?" sputtered the florist.

"The worst kind," Glenna said. "But let's not talk about him now, he'll spoil our dinner and I'm sure he's having a hot old time serving tea and crumpets to Lucifer." She sat down to the right of Rumple, with Moe on her left.

Belle sat on Rumple's left with Mathias next to her, and everyone ate the tender glazed ham, crispy roasted potatoes, sweet creamed corn and golden crescent rolls.

"That was sweet, Grandma, how you gave those brats poison ivy," Mathias chuckled, eating a crescent roll.

"I'd have rather given them something else, but it was fitting," Rumple agreed.

"Why didn't you tell me those kids were bothering you, Mathias?" Moe asked his grandson.

The little boy shrugged. "Cause by the time I got to your shop, they were gone . . . and I handled it with Fearchara. She bit 'em and my shoes shocked them. And we needed to get the plants done."

"It's good you're learning to fight your own battles, son, but next time tell me if anything like that happens," Moe said. "Because I can turn on a garden hose with the best of them if somebody tries to hurt my grandson."

"And that's what your family's for, laddie. To stand by you when you need them," Glenna said.

"Because nobody hurts my son!" Belle and Rumple said at almost the exact same time.

"Okay, I'll remember. If there's a next time," Mathias said, then ate some more ham.

He also snuck pieces to Fearchara under the table, who was lying by his feet as usual.

After dinner was done, the men cleared the table and washed the dishes while Belle and Glenna cut up the rest of the ham for soup and put away the leftovers. Belle took the ham bone, which normally she would have used for soup, and which still had plenty of meat upon it, and called, "Fearchara, this is for you. For doing such a wonderful job protecting my Mathias."

Fearchara gently took the huge bone from her and then Belle held open the back door for her so she could go and eat it in the yard.

She also put a bowl of water on the porch so the dog could drink it afterwards.

Fearchara happily went and lay down in the grass beneath a large oak tree and began eating, holding the bone up between her feet as she gnawed it, her blue eyes gleaming.

"Mama, I thought it wasn't good for dogs to have people food," Mathias said in surprise. "Or only a little."

"Well, in this case, she deserves that ham bone, and it won't hurt her occasionally," Belle said, and together the two of them watched their dog eating, with Belle's arm around her son.

"I have a wickedly awesome family," the seven-year-old declared, leaning against her.

Belle tweaked his nose. "You do, mister! And you deserve it too."

Mathias smiled quietly at her, and thought that maybe she was right.

Afterwards they played Apples to Apples, and they laughed so much that Moe almost choked on his tea and shortbreads. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had such a good time, not to mention with such a lively witty beautiful woman as Glenna. He made a mental note to bring her some special Valentine's tea next time, along with some heather in a pot, which he'd have to send away for.

"Maybe you could come by my shop next week some time," he told her. "There's some new plants I'm getting in, and maybe you could take a look and we could have lunch?" Moe asked diffidently as they said goodbye later that evening.

"That would be lovely, Moe! How about . . . on Thursday?" Glenna said.

"That would be good," Moe said. Then he picked up her hand and kissed it before saying, "Good night, Miss MacLeod-Carlyle and I shall see you next week."

Glenna grinned as she shut the door. "My stars, I havna been Miss MacLeod-Carlyle in ages."

"Ooh, looks like Grandma has a date!" Mathias teased, laughing. Then he made smooching noises at her.

"Oh, get on with you, you cheeky little imp!" Glenna laughed, and gave him a pretend swat.

Mathias smirked at her, until Rumple came and mussed his hair. "Hey, you need to go call your dog inside and get to bed, scamp. Because I think you have some kind of math test tomorrow."

Mathias groaned. "Aww, Papa! I was hoping you'd forgot!"

"Not a chance," his father smirked. "Now go on, it's almost nine."

Sighing, the boy went and let in Fearchara, who came when he whistled, reluctantly leaving her bone outside. "I'm not even tired," he muttered to the dog. "I don't see why I can't stay up till nine thirty."

"A good night's sleep means your brain is in good working order," Belle said.

Mathias sighed but went upstairs without protesting. He found that once he was in bed, he actually was sleepy, and drifted off listening to Belle reading to him, Fearchara beside him.

Belle set the book on his nightstand and turned to leave when she saw something. "Rumple! He forgot to take his shoes off!"

"I think he'd sleep with them on if he could," the pawnbroker said, and gently removed the ruby shoes and set them beside the bed. Then he gently pulled the covers over his son and kissed his forehead before going back downstairs with Belle to have a last cup of tea with Glenna before going to bed himself.

**Page~*~*~*~*~Break**

_Two days later:_

Emma was filing away some papers when she heard the search engine beep as she shut the door of her filing cabinet. Turning about she went to her desk and hit a key, and saw to her relief that the program she'd started to find Mathias' missing identity in the database was now flashing _Match Found_ on her screen.

"What's that?" Bae asked, coming over to see. "Don't tell me you blew up your computer again."

"Real funny, Neal. No, it's my search engine telling me they found a match for Mathias' fingerprints."

"Really? Let's see."

Emma hit a button and several articles plus two names filled her screen. "How very interesting," she mused as she read.

"Move over and let me read," Bae said.

"No can do, Cassidy," Emma said, putting a hand over the screen. "It's classified until your dad sees it first."

"Emma, I'm the kid's brother!"

"Yeah, but not his legal guardian and that's who gets to see it first. Police procedure. After he does, then he can share it with whoever he wants."

"Okay, whatever," Bae sighed and backed away. "You gonna call him now?"

"No. You are," Emma grinned, and handed him the phone. "Rank hath its privileges, deputy."

Bae rolled his eyes and dialed Gold's cell.

**Page~*~*~*~*~Break**

Seven minutes later, Gold was at the station, and looking at the results on Emma's computer. There were two major articles concerning the little boy, whose fingerprints matched up to a birth record at Topeka General Hospital for a baby boy, 8lbs, 1oz, born to Emmaline and Eric Crane on April 14th 1971. Following that was a birth announcement in the _Topeka Times_ welcoming Mathias Stephen Crane, firstborn son of journalists Eric and Emmy Crane and grandson of Dorothy Gale-McClintock and husband George McClintock.

Gold blinked. "Well, that's a rather incredible coincidence. His name really _is_ Mathias."

"Yeah, that is pretty amazing. But read the other two articles, Rumple," Emma urged.

"So, my mama was right. He _is_ related to Dorothy Gale," murmured the sorcerer, then he scrolled down to read the first article and stiffened in shock. "My God!"

For there, splashed across the paper in lurid black and white detail was the headline _Drunken Driver Kills Family in Head-on Collision, Only Survivor 2-Year-Old Baby!_

Dorothy Gale-McClintock, her husband George, and their daughter Emmaline (Emmy), son-in-law Eric, and their baby grandson were taking a vacation, heading to a small cabin beside a lake when a drunk driver, Evan Thomas, age 34, plowed into the family station wagon, crossing oncoming traffic to hit them head-on with his Range Rover at 8AM Saturday morning.

Dorothy was known for her apple pies and her children's prose, writing a bunch of stories for the local library which she read at storytime and was a loving, generous woman who encouraged children to read and an upstanding pillar of the community. She and her family will be sorely missed.

Miraculously, when the car hit a tree, killing those who did not die on impact with Thomas' Range Rover, somehow 2-year-old Mathias Crane was unharmed. When rescue workers heard him crying on the scene, they had to rip apart the car to find him, he was beneath his mother, who it seemed had curled herself around him just before impact. The baby is the only survivor and heir to both the Gale farmstead and the Crane house. Father Eric Crane was the descendant of famous schoolteacher Ichabod Crane of Sleepy Hollow. As there are no living relations, the baby shall be placed in a state facility until a home is found for him.

Driver Thomas is currently undergoing treatment for wounds at the local hospital and has been charged with four counts of vehicular manslaughter and DUI, which will result in a possible prison sentence as this is a second offense.

"Miserable bastard," Rumple swore. "I hope they put him away for life." He shook his head, thinking what a terrible tragedy to befall that family. He continued reading the second article.

**Fire Consumes Orphanage in Topeka and Lives of Over 40 Children!**

January 29th, 1979. A fire raged out of control at the Mount Pleaant Orphanage in the middle of the night, destroying over half the building and killing over 40 children who were inside asleep at the time. Cause of the blaze was a supposedly lit cigarette dropped near a bunch of rags doused in cleaning solution, though the orphanage matron stated adamantly that none of her ward personnel were smokers and no one has any clue how the cigarette came to be there. Perhaps a passing pedestrian or motorist is to blame. The fire took the lives of many of the children there, and many of the bodies were burnt beyond recognition due to the searing heat of the blaze, which was fanned by an unexpected prairie wind. Among the known dead is young Mathias Crane, whose miraculous survival of a car accident five years ago apparently didn't extend to fireproofing. Service and memorial shall be held at St. Mary's Church a week following, for those who wish to pray for the souls of the children lost in this terrible tragedy.

"That fire was no accident. I'd bet all my gold that was Peter Pan's doing, to cover up his stealing of Mathias and whoever else he took from there," Rumple said angrily. "He could have used that cigarette as a catalyst for his magic, and once that fire got going, nothing could have put it out except another magic user, or it died down naturally after awhile."

"But he killed all those kids, Gold!" Emma growled.

"I know. But he wouldn't have cared about the possible repercussions of leaving that cigarette around. It would have been just another game to him, once he took what he wanted," Rumple replied.

"God, but he was a nasty piece of work," Bae said, his lip curled in disgust. "So what did you find out, Papa?"

"Here. Read it for yourself. At least we know now that my mama's suspicions were correct, and he is a Gale . . . and also a Crane. But that's the only good news . . . unless you count the fact that there's no one alive to contest my guardianship of Mathias," Gold said.

"Maybe it's a blessing in disguise," Emma said. "And at least he knows that his parents didn't just abandon him or something. What about that property he was supposed to have inherited?"

"It's probably long been sold at auction," Gold answered. "As soon as he was confirmed dead, they would have put it up for sale. So his only real inheritance is his magic resistance and the ruby slippers . . . from his blood relatives that is."

"But if the Wicked Witch does come here, Papa, doesn't his being Dorothy's descendant put him in danger from her?" Bae asked.

"It could, given how she detested his grandmother," Rumple nodded. "But if I have my way, she'll never get so much as a glance at him, and if she tries to harm him, she's going to deal with me _and_ my mother, for starters."

"Me too," Bae said.

"And me and Belle," added Emma. "Plus Regina, if that witch has designs on hurting kids, she could want Henry too."

"Yes, though whatever Regina did to Elspira in the past is what's brought this quarrel to our doorstep now," Gold remarked candidly.

"What did she do?" Bae wanted to know.

"Knowing Regina, she probably broke a deal with her or something," Emma snorted.

"I'd say that was very likely, dearie. But you'd have to ask her," Rumple said. "Right now, I'd like to print out these articles to show Belle, my mother, and Mathias. It will lay to rest at least some of the questions they've had regarding his background."

"Be my guest," Emma told him, and indicated the print icon. "I'll be talking to Regina later on, to see what she knows, and to warn her about Mistress Dark, Green, and Nasty."

"You do that, sheriff. And tell her if she wants to know anything more, to come and see me at my house," Gold instructed her. He hit the print icon.

As the pages printed, Bae looked at Emma and said, "You'd better warn your parents too, Em. And I can talk to Hook and Tink."

"Right. We might as well start preparing for her to crash the party," Emma sighed. "God, and here I thought we'd finally be able to get some peace and quiet around here."

"Same here, dearie. I'm thinking Belle and I better move the date of the wedding up, considering. Because I'll be damned if I'm going to postpone anything because of that green bitch's invasion," Rumple said heatedly. "It's a good thing Belle didn't send out any invitations yet."

"If anything changes, Rumple, let us know," Emma said, and handed him the printouts.

"You'll be the first ones," he assured her, then he stuffed the pages into his jacket pocket and left.

**Page~*~*~*~*~Break**

After dinner that evening, Rumple took out the printed articles and showed them to his family, starting with Belle. Once she was done reading them, she passed them to Glenna, and turned to Rumple and said, "What a terrible tragedy, but . . . at least now he's got a family who will love him no matter what."

"Yes, and that's what's important, dearie," Rumple assured her. "Do you want to let him read these, or shall we tell him ourselves and save this for when he's a little older?"

"I think we should tell him that Emma found out that he really is Dorothy Gale's grandson and the names of his parents and what happened to them. But we should leave the other part—about the fire and what you believe caused it—alone for now, because if we tell him that he might blame himself for all those kids dying, and that's the last thing he needs right now."

Glenna looked up from reading the article about the orphanage fire and nodded. "Aye, Rumple. Belle's right. The lad's a wee bit young to go feeling guilty over what that devil Pan did, but knowing him, he'd be doing so. Best to wait till he's older and more adjusted before telling him that particular truth. It's enough that he knows who his ancestors were and what happened to them."

"Okay. I'll just show him the one article," Rumple agreed. "Where is he, by the way?"

"Playing with Fearchara. I think he was trying to teach her a new trick," Belle said, waving a hand towards the backyard. "Something he saw on some dog TV show on Animal Planet."

"That dog already does enough tricks," Rumple snorted. "Soon she's going to talk like a person. The other night I shut her out of Mathias' room by mistake, since he fell asleep watching TV and I went and let her out before bedtime, and I heard her scratching at his door. But by the time I went to open it for her, I saw her do it herself."

"How?" Belle asked.

"She jumped up and turned it with her paw," Rumple informed her. "When the door opened, she went inside and jumped up on the bed and lay down by his feet just like she always does. I couldn't believe it, but when I went to check on them, Mathias was sound asleep and Fearchara just looked at me, as if to say, I just let myself in, so what? Belle, that dog is smarter than some people I know."

"We made a good choice that day," Belle said.

"Or fate made it for us," Rumple stated. Then he went to the back door to see what his son was doing with his furry friend.

Mathias had just placed the blue rubber ball on Fearchara's nose, then he clapped once and called, "Up, Fearchara! Up!" The dog promptly sat up, balancing the ball on her nose. "Good girl!" Mathias, fed her a small piece of beef jerky. "Now dance! Come on, girl!" He clapped two times and held his hand with another piece of jerky above her head.

Fearchara obligingly stood on her hind feet, balancing the ball.

Mathias twirled his hand and the Samoyed-mix turned slowly in a circle, dancing for him, the ball still on her nose.

"Atta girl! Good girl!" the boy praised. "Okay, down!" He lowered his hand.

Fearchara sat, then tossed the ball to him.

Mathias caught it in his other hand and then fed her the treat. "You're my smart girl, aren't you? You're the smartest dog in Storybrooke, and lots smarter than Felix and his dumb friends, right?"

Fearchara barked, then licked her boy's hand, looking for more treats in his pocket.

"Stop! You're tickling me!" Mathias giggled, trying to fend off the questing black nose as she snuffled him. "Okay! Here's another one." He pulled another treat from his pocket and fed it to her.

As the dog swallowed it, Rumple opened the door and called, "Mathias! Come here, I have something to show you."

"Papa! Did you see? I taught Fearchara how to dance!" Mathias yelled, then he dropped the ball and ran up the stairs, with his dog following.

"Next thing you know that dog's going to be driving a car or something," Rumple said, amused. "Right, Fearchara?"

Fearchara wagged her tail and barked, then licked Rumple's hand.

"She wants treats," Mathias informed him.

"Hold on a minute," the sorcerer ordered, then summoned a bag of smoked pig ears to him and gave the panting dog one.

"What didja want to show me?" his son asked.

Rumple put an arm about him and said quietly, "Remember how Emma needed your fingerprints to see if she could find out who your parents were in her database?"

"Uh huh. Did she find something out?" asked the child eagerly.

"She did, and I have something for you to read," his father drew him into the den, where Belle handed Mathias the article.

"Can I sit by you and read it, Papa?" Mathias asked.

Rumple nodded and had his son sit on his lap while he sat in his recliner.

Fearchara came and lay down by their feet in front of the fireplace, crunching upon her treat.

Mathias curled up in his papa's lap, tucking his feet with the ruby basketball shoes off to one side so they didn't get Rumple's suit dirty, while he read the article slowly. Finally he set the page down and said, "So it's true. I really _am_ a Gale. And that's why I'm magic resistant, isn't it?"

"Yes. Because such talent, like magic, runs in families," Rumple told him.

"And my name really is Mathias. I guess that's why I liked it so much," the child mused. "Mathias Stephen Crane Gold," he recited. "Papa, that's almost as bad as Rumplestiltskin! Can I just be plain old Mathias Gold most of the time?"

"Son, we'll call you whatever you wish, but remember that's your True Name. And you're only to tell it to those you trust with your life," Rumple said seriously. "You know why, don't you?"

"Uh huh. Because if you know the True Name of something you can control it. Same as if you took its heart," Mathias recited.

"Exactly! You're almost too smart for your own good," his father said, laughing.

"I learned that from reading your fairy tale," his son grinned. Then he said, "I'm glad that my birth family loved me and they didn't . . . just throw me away like Peter said happened to all of us. He used to tell us that . . . that we were chosen cause nobody wanted us 'cept him, only that was a lie, because when he found out I . . . I wasn't like the other boys, he didn't want me either."

"That's because he was an egotistical little bastard," Rumple growled softly. "And he wouldn't know anybody's true worth if it jumped up and bit him. So you don't pay any attention to what he told you, son. You're worth twenty of him and every kid on that miserable island and don't you forget it, Mathias Gold. He knew it, and I know it, and now you know it too. Because unlike the rest of them, you never fell under his spell, and you remained your own person, and that makes you special. Your birth family loved you and so do we, and we always will. Because we Golds always love each other, no matter what."

"Like the Charmings always find each other."

"Yes, just like that," Rumple agreed, and then he hugged his son, whom the fates had placed in his path that long ago day in the jungles of Neverland, and whom he loved as much as he ever did Baelfire.

Mathias tucked his head beneath his father's chin, and listened to the steady beating of Rumple's heart, thinking that he had found at last his heart's desire, what every Lost Boy had wished for secretly—a family to call his own. _I'm a Gale and a Crane and a Gold and this is where I belong._ Then he breathed in the familiar scent of his papa's suit and shaving cream and smiled, the little boy lost who was now found.

Belle watched, misty eyed, and slipped her phone from her pocket and snapped a picture of her two boys, thinking what a beautiful moment she had captured, when there came a knock at the door.

"Now who could that be?" she wondered, and Fearchara barked sharply, as Belle rose and went to answer it.

"Regina!" she said, seeing the mayor standing on her porch.

**A/N: Thanks everyone for reading and reviewing! I really appreciate it! We're having a blizzard here down the Jersey shore, so please review and give me something to read while the snow's falling! **

**Trivia question: Who knows the inspiration for the name of Dorothy's husband? Hint: It's a funny movie whose star is played by one of my favorite late actors. **


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